


Silver in the Blood

by Belle_Lestrange101



Series: Silver in the Blood [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Anal Sex, Bathtub Sex, Complete, Curses, Drug Use, Friendship, Gay Romance, Gay Sex, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hospitals, Illnesses, Jack the Ripper DLC, Love, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medicine, Muggle London, Murder, Occult, Rituals, Romance, Stalking, Supernatural Elements, Surgery, Suspense, Suspicions, Thriller, Torture, Werewolves, silver bullets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-01-06 15:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 98,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12213495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Lestrange101/pseuds/Belle_Lestrange101
Summary: Victorian London, 1888. Harry had just started studying medicine under Professor Snape on a full-year scholarship. Plucked out of his small Yorkshire childhood town, Harry travels to London to secure a better future for himself and the rest of his family.During the witching hour, there are some extra lectures to sign up for; lectures on supernatural biology and medicine. It seemed far-fetched at first and Harry is sure the only reason he even attends is because he paid the tuition through till the New Year. However, with the constant lack of sleep, and a newfound friendship with young aristocrat, Draco Malfoy, Harry starts taking an interest in the strange events occurring throughout Whitechapel. Why is the Ripper murdering so many people? Why can the police not catch him? And why is Harry helping Snape dissect the mutilated victims in the dead of night for his supernatural biology class?It isn't long before Harry starts to see things that aren't really there. Yet, for some reason, he finds himself drawn to Draco; the young man seemed to thrive when the sky was dark and the moon grew fat. There was no way that his new found friend was something akin to the horrors Snape was teaching him about -was he?





	1. 4th August 1888

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi-chapter horror story for Halloween. I'm hoping to have it finished by then, however I'm starting to post it up now to build the suspense ;) Haven't written Drarry in a while so be kind! x

_**~London~** _

_Friday 4th August 1888_

 

The night sky was beautiful to behold. No heads bothered to turn up to look at the sweep of velvety black sky, speckled with small white stars. No heads, that is, except one young man who needed an extra breath of fresh air before heading into the hospitals theatre. The anticipation of breathing in the musk of harsh soap and ether was not something that roused his interest.

Dull orange lamplight bathed the flagstones and the porch that the other young apprentices were gathered upon. There was a cool note in the air that whispered off the Thames. It wasn't cold enough for the breath to mist up in the air, but it was enough for the man to take their overcoats –just in case. In the distance, the soft clicking of footsteps on the flagstones filled the otherwise still night. Glancing at his pocket watch, Harry determined that it was already a quarter to eight. The lecture was due to start at 9PM and they hadn't even gotten into the building yet.

"I suppose it's a good thing it hasn't gotten cold enough to snow yet," commented Ronald. Harry raised his eyebrows in agreement. Ronald was a tall, lanky man with a very thin neck. His hair was a mass of sleek ginger strands swept across. His face was spattered with freckles that drew away from his –otherwise handsome –features.

"As long as we don't freeze in December, we'll be fine," Harry said with a smile.

The truth was, despite it being the end of August, the sudden drop in temperature was a curious turn. Many elderly women lamented that it was to be the end of days, but Harry found himself tuning them out more and more as the years passed. It was only a cool night, nothing untoward. They lived in London, the land that temperate fluccuated throughout the year. His mother had even spoken of when she was a young girl, the Thames would freeze over and they would have 'Frost Fairs' on the ice that could easily reach eleven inches in thickness.

A touch of nippy weather wasn't about to make their evenings unpleasant.

No; that was a job much better left to the crook currently prowling the streets of London. There had been horrid things in the newspaper. Harry had read the articles, chills running down his spine whenever he remembered it. He caught himself speculating who could ever commit such horrid crimes, but it wasn't his place to go poking around. That was a job better left to the police.

In the courtyard, the clock struck 9PM.

A key ground the gears in the lock and the large double doors swung open. A rush of warm air enveloped the student body as they shuffled forward onto the marble-tiled floor of the auditorium-like theatre. Shuffling around the circular levels, Harry and Ronald found some seats on the lower ring of seats. As they shucked off their overcoats and hats, their professor entered through the narrow door in a sweep of his long, black robes.

Taking his books out of his bag along with a quill and ink, Harry had to take a moment to stare up at his professor, standing like a dark angel against the lecturn. He was a tall man with slick black hair, and a hooked nose. His skin was sallow but there was a hungry gleam in those dark eyes that made everyone's stomachs turn. He was a cold, calculating man, his voice deep and smooth as it resounded off the stone walls. His was a captivating presence that sank deep into the bones, and left his students enraptured with his teachings.

In short; he was a magnificent professor.

Fifteen minutes before the lecture ended -an introductory lecture to outline what they were supposed to learn over the coming months before Christmas holidays –Professor Snape turned to his array of drowsy-faced students and narrowed his eyes. So many insolent brats. It was a good thing half of them weren't paying attention, because then they wouldn't get another invite to the following lectures when the surgeries began. Most professors would relish in the extra money handed over at the end of every lecture, as a preemptive payment on the following week, however Snape was not one of them. He'd rather teach half a class of interested pupils, rather than a full class almost completely filled with hopeless socialites.

Tightening his jaw even more, he stepped behind his podium and –barely raising his leg –knocked the stand over. The crash resounding throughout the auditorium, the hundred or so students who had been slumped in their seats were suddenly on their feet and alert. Spinning around they searched for the source of the commotion. Upon finding that it had been Snape, a great many cheeks flushed bright pink with embarrassment.

Harry and Ronald shared a sly grin with one another.

"Now that I have your attention," Snape intoned, his black glassy eyes passing over the pale faces staring up at him. "I'm sure you will be all interested to know what the curriculum will be consisting of, for those of you who can stomach it." He gave a pointed look to a small cluster of young men on the third row who had looked dangerously close to falling asleep. "Now, for those of you who wish to excel your studies, I shall have it be known that for one week every month, there will be classes every night between 10PM to 1AM. For those of you who are interested, stay behind after this lecture and I shall inform you of what it entails."

Harry caught himself before he was leaning against the brass pole that ran around the mahogany wall in front of him. Swallowing, he readjusted himself and straightened his shoulders. He'd almost dropped his notes. Ronald looked a little pale beside him and he couldn't help but suppress a chuckle. The red-haired man was not good with blood. He needed to do this series of lessons and hands-on study to actually get used to it, otherwise he'd have a hard time finding decent work in the field of medicine.

As Snape continued to wrap up his lecture, his voice a deep baritone. Ronald leaned over and, dropping his voice to a whisper, asked; "Are you going to wait behind to learn about the extra-curriculum lessons?"

Harry shrugged. He couldn't deny that it filled him with a dizzying excitement to know what the man deemed worthy to extend lessons outside of time. "I think so. Even just to see what it's about."

Ronald nodded. "I don't think I could handle much more of this man, even if it were to guarantee me a job as soon as I graduated."

Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Ronald managed when it came to academia but he wasn't the brightest candle on the altar. At long last, the clock struck 12AM and they were dismissed an hour early, since it was only an introductory lecture.

"Okay that's midnight. Get out," he enunciated his words, before turning his back on the students. He never left any room for questions, and at this late hour it didn't seem as though anyone had any.

Ronald stood up and, after gathering his books, he shot Harry a strained look. "Are you sure you want to stay? You'll be walking home almost alone."  
Harry gave his friend a patient smile. "I'm sure I'll manage."

With a thin-lipped smile, the ginger man nodded quietly and then shuffled along the tight circular row of chairs towards the main doors. A soft breeze shuffled around their ankles as they made the rest of the class went back out into the breathable air and made their way home. Harry and ten other students were left.

When he turned back around, Snape was pleasantly surprised that he had as many as eleven pupils staying behind for the extra lectures. He knew it wasn't going to be popular with half the current student body, and he'd probably only have three men turn up by the following week, but it was a risk he took every year. It was a risk that needed to be undertaken, because one day –despite his efforts –he wouldn't be there to carry these lessons through.

Stepping up to the lectern, he grasped the mahogany wood and smoothed his long, pale fingers over the varnished grain. "Now the rest of you have stayed behind this evening because you are either intrigue by the unknown subject matter yet to be disclosed, or you're thinking that this will mean you have to put less effort into your regular studying of the human body and its internals. On the latter, you are wrong; you will have to dedicate perhaps even more of your time to passing these extra lectures.

"You will all need to swear a declaration that whatever you witness within these four walls between the time the lectures start and end, will not be repeated to the outside world. This is of the utmost importance to the nation's security and the Queen herself is adamant for discretion."

Harry furrowed his brown. Utmost security declared by the Her Majesty? That didn't seem at all likely. Why would the Queen have any interest in the medical sciences? He shifted uncomfortably, the hard wood eating into the back of his thighs. His quill trembled in his hand as he prepared to take notes.

"Now a lot of you may have heard rumours about some of the subjects I like to teach?" he drawled, his narrow, dark eyes surveying the room. A few young men squirmed in his peripheral vision, but he ignored them. He knew what people said about him, often when they thought he was nowhere near. He didn't care, though. "You may have been told not to bother wasting your time, that elements of the supernatural have no place in the world of science, medicine and our way of life. However, I am here to tell you that you're wrong."

A buzzing of hushed voices rippled through the room.

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"There are very few scientifically acclaimed accounts of strange and otherworldly diseases or dangers. Reports indicate that there are far more out there in the world that simply are ignored, given no treatment or a chance to recover and join society."  
A hand raised near the middle of the fifth row of seats. Snape narrowed his eyes but inclined his head. The voice that spoke was nasally and sounded rather

pompous. "If there aren't any recorded cases then why are you bothering to tell us all of this?"

"One day, Mr. Renham, doctors will need to know of ways to cure such ailments. That is why the task has befallen whomever chooses to study these lectures, to create as many detailed notes and diagrams to be printed into a new volume for the medical sciences journals in Oxford."

Harry swallowed thickly. To become published alone would be a huge achievement, the royalties wouldn't be amazing however it would certainly escalate his future career threefold if he was published in journals approved by the Queen herself. However, the was a strange feeling inside him, curling around like a snake, sending chills running up and down his limbs. His brain argued that it was merely the late hour and the unusually cool evening that awaited him outside the large oak doors. However … what of the subject matter? Clearly it had not done Professor Snape any harm, though Harry did wonder if it had done the man any favours, being so involved in things of the occult.

Another hand rose.

"Professor, why exactly is there interest in the medical side of the occult?" the young man asked. Harry felt some relief ebb into his chest. He was glad he didn't have to ask the question, no doubt, all of them were wondering.

"The reason, Mr. Fielding, is that there have been some strange and gruesome murders up and down the country. You may have noticed that even the police here in London are stretched pretty thin. It is my hopes that we shall have fresh corpses from any new murders. You young men are to help me research these bodies and determine if there were committed by a supernatural entity, and if not, why not? What else could it be? How do you know it is something else? Have you, yourself, discovered a new disease that will transform the medical world? We won't know. Not yet, at least. However, within the next fortnight I shall have more news regarding any autopsies."

Harry bit his lip. His palms were clammy as he glanced back down at his notes. Was this really an enterprise he wanted to be involved in? He had a week to completely make his mind up and find the money for the tuition for the extra classes.

Snape turned to eye them all with a flourish of his robes. "Alright men. If you wish to participate in these extra lectures, stay after your original lecture next Monday night. That is one week to make the decision. Dismissed!"

 

 

Stepping out into the dark street, Harry drew in a deep breath. The crisp note in the air stung his lungs and the back of his throat, but it was a welcomed change from the oppressing atmosphere of the lecture room. Raking a hand through his hair, he looked up and down the street, the few young men who had stayed behind already ghosting along the pavement, their silver-headed staffs gleaming whenever they passed under a streetlamp. Harry turned left and started making his way up the road, the rustling of leaves following him.

Walking home alone had never been an issue for him. He actually preferred when the streets were empty; it meant he could move with freedom and not have to worry about knocking into someone. He was grateful that he didn't have to walk for more than forty minutes to get to the hospital. It wasn't an issue now, however when the weather started to turn cold, he would need to find a short cut so that he didn't get ill.

Upon arriving at his front porch, he slipped his key into the lock and went inside. Climbing the staircase, he didn't take his cloak off nor his hat until he was inside his room. His lodgings were small but homely. Living so far away from his parents was a disheartening truth to come home to every night, however Harry had to keep thinking of how good his opportunity was. It was many people who got a fully paid scholarship to study under the renowned Professor Severus Snape. Perhaps that was another reason spurring him towards the extra activities. He hoped it would aid him in becoming the Professors protegee once the class had graduated. He liked to write to his parents every week to let them know how things were progressing for him. Normally, he wouldn't have written so often, however not only did his mother worry but the postal service could take a while between London and Sheffield. He just wanted to make sure that if it did stop for whatever reason –perhaps a strike or bad weather –they'd have a flock of new letters to read.

Within half an hour, Harry had a small iron kettle heating up over his fire and had managed to make up a dinner of cold meat cuts, warmed soup and half a loaf of bread from earlier that afternoon. It wasn't much –not like his mothers cooking –but it would suffice until morning.

Sat in his chair with nothing but the creaks and groans of the old house around him, Harry finally let himself relax. He was disappointed that Ron hadn't wanted to learn about the exciting new lectures. Perhaps it was the late hour of said lectures, but Harry knew better. Ronald was squeamish. Why the red-haired man wanted to go into the profession at all still remained a mystery to Harry but he admired his friend's spirit. Unfastening his buttons Harry felt a cold weight settle in his chest as he pulled his chair closer to the low fire, his legs stretched out before him. It would be increasingly lonely if he were to study throughout the early hours of the morning and not have a companion alongside. He liked knowing his classmates. Sadly, the only ones who had stayed behind were not people Harry tended to talk to.  
Twisting the small ring on his right ring finger, Harry sighed and glanced out of the window. The faintest hint of daylight was already bleaching the black from the sky. Vague shapes took on a sharper life.

' _I need to get some sleep_ ,' he thought as he banked the fire. A yawn rubbed his throat raw as he sluggishly shucked off his clothes and dropped down into his narrow bed. It creaked under his weight. Sighing softly, Harry resolved to watch daylight slowly waken the city.

He drifted off to sleep before the sun had been risen.


	2. 7th August 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Monday 7th August 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

Every part of Harry's body felt over-sensitive to the room around him. His skin prickled at the very brush of the grain of his seat. A touch of parchment on his skin made his mouth run dry. The dust made his eyes water and raw as he tried to focus on what the professor was saying to round off his current lecture, preparing to dismiss those that had no interest in the supernatural.

That meant that within five minutes, Ron would be weaving his way through the circular rows of chairs towards the door. This was to be their first lecture and Harry couldn't deny the knots he felt in his stomach. He hadn't gotten much sleep over the weekend, and he was trying to get his head around these middle-of-the-night lessons –and he'd only had an introductory class last week!

As the other students stood to leave the lecture hall –Ronald stopping to give Harry a supportive grip on his shoulder before departing –Harry shifted awkwardly as the coolness from the now empty spaces whispered against his skin.

The wad of money burned in his pocket.

The door bangs closed at the top of the hall.

Snape looked down the length of his hooked nose and studied the remaining seven men with his flat, black eyes. "I trust that each of you has the tuition fees I explained in our previous lesson." It wasn't a question. Harry always admired the bluntness of the older mans words. He didn't question people or their actions. He didn't even go in the other direction and make assumptions. He demanded what was expected of them and they, in turn, found no way to avoid complying.

A chorus of dull 'yes's' echoed around the room.

One by one, they each walked up to the podium and set their brown paper packets on the varnished wood before retreating to their seats. Snape's face remained emotionless as he put the money out of sight and unravelled a blank canvas with a tug of his cane. Harry jumped. Feeling a hot flush creep up his neck, he sincerely hoped that no one else had noticed. He tried to focus on the images the lantern slide was producing on the blank fabric.

He felt a cold beat of sweat dribble down the small of his back.

On the canvas there was an immaculately sketched diagram of the Vitruvian Man –only this one was different from the one Da Vinci had created. The one being shown from the projector was one that depicted the central figure as having hairy, muscular legs a tail and a wolf head with its feral expression and hair trailing down the human torso. It was –an unnerving sight! To think that such an inhuman atrocity could exist, it was enough to make the stomach twist. Harry felt himself leaning on the edge of his seat. His note book threatened to spill out into the pulpit.

"For those of you who are unaware what this creature is," Snape's voice rang out throughout the hall. "Please save your petulant wonderings until after!"

The lycanthropic man vanished, only to be replaced with another image. This time the canvas was showing the image of a full human skeleton, only this skeleton had been adapted in the most bizarre way! The feet were not simple, angular bones. No, these feet were drawn to resemble the enlarged structure from a bat! Harry squirmed. It'd be incredibly uncomfortable to have feet like a bat, no matter how big or small they were. His eye wondered upwards to the rest of the structure looming over the human skeleton. They were wings! Thin, hollow and brittle they spread out from the original body in two large arcs on either side. Was this supposed to be an angelic being?

"I see I have caught your attention," Snape's voice called out through the shadowed hall. "What do you call these two creatures I have shown you?"

Two hands shot into the air. Harry merely pressed himself back into his seat, straining his ears against the sound of his hammering heart.

"You?"

"The first is a hellhound, sir! The second is possibly a mutation in the form of an angelic being!"

"Incorrect. You're wasting my time and yours if you don't think before you speak! You?"

"I think that –perhaps –the first image could be a depicturn of lycanthropy s-sir."

"What's your name?"

"Neville, sir. Neville Longbottom."

"Well, Mr. Longbottom, it seems that you got something right. Goodness knows how, but we shan't demean miracles when they happen." The curl of his sneer sent a shiver through the room. "Now, who can name the second creature?"

Harry was struggling to write and listen. In the dim light he was trying to mimic the diagram on the drop-screen before him, even going as far to annotate both of them as Snape spoke.

"None of you?" Snape spared them a disdainful look. "Not one of you men know even the common name for a creature such as this?" Silence meant his question. This irked him. Straightening up even taller, he curled his long fingers around the podium. "That creature – _children_  –is what is most commonly known as a ' _vampire'_!"

Hushed gasps came from various points in the darkness.

The temperature seemed to drop and the wood seemed to harden under Harry's legs. Was this man insane? ' _Hear him out, Potter!_ ' he admonished himself. ' _You've paid for the extra lessons so you'd better pay attention!_ '

"Now according to folklore these two creatures are very much polar opposites of one another. However, the skeletal structure differs drastically from one to the other."

"How would you know that, sir?" drawled a low voice from the back of the room. Harry craned his neck but was unable to catch sight of the man who had spoken.

Snape fixed the arrogant speaker with a dark glare. "Any imbecile who looks at the diagrams drawn is evidence enough."

"And we're supposed to just take your word?"

"If you don't like it, Mr. Zabini, then by all means grace us with the sight of your back."

There was a tense silence before a faint huff came from the young man. Snape did not take any prisoners when it came to the sharpness of his tongue. Flexing his shoulders, the black-haired man stood taller, like a Grim Reaper without a scythe. Flipping the black-board to a clean slate, he showed another diagram of a full-fledged vampire structure next to a werewolf structure. There were arrows and blank boxes pointing to various spots on each body that weren't akin to that of a regular human.

Harry had to squint and lean forward in his chair to see the thin chalk lines clearly. He mentally cursed his short-sightedness. It wouldn't do to be a surgeon or any practitioner of medicine, if he couldn't see what he was working on.

' _Stop it!_ ' he snapped at himself as he focused on recreating the diagrams perfectly.

After they'd had about fifteen minutes to sketch, Snape stood like a slim black pillar, his waxy features almost melting in the low light. The stench of beeswax and oppressive atmosphere felt like a weight pressing down over their heads. Brandishing his chalk like a wand, Snape tapped one of the empty boxes –the one pointing to the vampires mouth.

"Name it!" he called.

A hand shot up. "Fangs!"

"What is their main purpose?"

"To stun their victim as well as drain the blood from the jugular!"

Snape was not the type of man to congratulate a right answer. His silence did it for him, as he wrote the word and abbreviated description in the box. Without a pause, he pointed to the next box indicating the fine, bat-like wings spreading out over the center of the board.

"Name it!"

On and on it went for the better part of an hour until the majority of both sketched skeletons. To Harry, the werewolf was a far more interesting specimen; it had a unique bone structure since it didn't have separate appendages –it actually seemed to mutate from the human form to the other. As he labelled the diagram in his book, Harry couldn't help but regret his decision to study this supernatural nonsense. Of course it was interesting, but if it meant touching his book with his nose just to be able to see what he'd written –was it worth it?

"Now, gentlemen, over the next few weeks I will be sharing my lessons with some speakers, who are coming to London specifically to discuss their knowledge on the biological anomalies that are linked to lycanthropy and vampirism." His dark eyes silenced any murmuring in a heartbeat. "You'd do well to attend."

Harry raised his head, his interest piqued.

Somewhere outside the bells chimed one in the morning.

Snape seethed, his long, white fingers curling around the podium. "Very well. Class is over. Study the diagrams I have drawn for you. You'll need to memorise as much as possible."

As the class filed out of the classroom, a few lingered near the corner of the building, dragging out small white cigarettes. AS Harry slowly shuffled past them, not wanting to have a coughing fit because of the smoke, he heard their voices carry against the stone. "That man is a raving lunatic!" one commented. "To think I paid good money to listen to this insanity!"

"Do you really think he is insane, Thomas? Or are you just scared?"

A murmur of laughter lightening the mood.

"Why, there's nothing to be scared of!" the first speaker –Thomas –stated. "The only thing I could be scared of is Snape himself."

"How sure are we that this man isn't a vampiric daemon himself? He has all the traits about him."

"Don't say that you believe his drivel?" Thomas barked.

"Of course not," said the second man. "All I know is that based on the texts he's had us read, he displays quite a number of those properties. Watch him next time if you don't believe me. He always wears black, he only teaches at night, we never see him in the daylight and he has long, white fingers and hands. Not to mention, he's rather imposing."

"That could be applied to a lot of doctors," reasoned a third man.

Their voices drifted off as Harry made his way out of the main courtyard and onto the cobbled streets. His heels clacked a little on the damp stones as he made his way to his rooms. The night air was heavy and damp. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, bowing his head to his chest. Was it possible that his teacher was a vampire? That really was the most amusing thing Harry had heard recently. Snape wasn't a vampire –he just couldn't be. Not to mention, Harry was sure he had seen the sallow-faced man in daylight at least one time.

As soon as he was inside, he light a huge fire and shrugged out of his damp clothes, changing into some fresh undergarments and wrapped himself in a dressing down and a heavy blanket to ward off the chill as the fire grew. Now that he had much better light and was comfortable, Harry drew out his notebook. His diagram was detailed enough however he couldn't help but looking at the lycanthropic skeleton. It really was abnormal in comparison to a classic human skeleton. But how? How was it possible for bones to mutate so quickly? For them to stretch and change shape –becoming canine in appearance. Even the facial muscles grew distorted and elongated once the creature was fully developed.

It all happened so fast!

"Am I missing something?" he wondered, as he ran a finger over the drawing. A sudden idea came to him. Fumbling around he located a stub of pencil on the mantelpiece and drew more arrows from the page to small boxes as well as listing questions that he was sure to ask in the following weeks lecture.

 

 

~0~

 

 

The following week, Harry was eager to get to his lecture whereas the other seven young men seemed to be taking it as a chore. They had known of Snape and his teachings. The workload and studying outside of lectures should not have surprised them. In fact, Harry sat in the first row of seats for two reasons; one, so he was able to see the writing on the blackboard without squinting and two, so he could be easily heard when asking Snape the questions he had prepared the week before.

It had already been an intense day for him. He'd made it on time to his previous lecture on new surgery techniques in regards to women giving birth and has been a little squeamish upon seeing the large detailed sheets Snape had drawn up especially for them to study and memorise. Ronald had been especially pale during that lesson as, he told Harry over the weekend, that he had started courting a young woman from North London. It was such a shock for the red-haired man to see the detailed drawings –he had to be excused for ten minutes. Harry felt sympathy for his friend, he really did, however he was also seeing the poor mans training go up in smoke if he didn't quell his queasiness.

Now that the theatre was empty again, Harry felt like he could relax a little more.

Snape was doing a recap of their last lesson and asked if any of them had done extra studying, to which only three people raised their hands. Harry included. Again, there was no approval, merely silence.

"Now, class, for this next session I am requiring you to study up on the chapters I have copied for you. They are medications and concoctions that have been reportedly proven to lessen the effects of those inflicted with lycanthropic tendencies." His voice was a low rumble that worked rhymically with the darkness. "I want you all to study the exact production of each medication. Learn it by heart; sometimes you'll need to work from memory alone. Learning these tricks now will make life far easier later."

Harry frowned, before taking the top sheet and passing them back.

It was a large sheaf of thin paper, the ink printed small along side Snape's inked drawings. He really was rather talented; at the very least the images were detailed enough so that it'd be easy to identify things, if he ever happened to come face-to-face with such an anomaly.

Harry bit back a snort of derision.

Of course he'd see a werewolf! This was one hundred per cent true! He'd also buy a baby mermaid and raise it in a bowl on the windowsill!

"Now, class, gather your notebooks. We are to adjourn to the courtyard."

There was a stunned moment of silence before the eight young men broke out into a chorus of questions, the most popular one being 'what?'

"You heard. Outside. Five minutes!"

There was no room for arguments. As a group, the shuffling of feet and gathering of leather-bound books filled the air as the doors were unlocked and pushed open. A rush of balmy air ruffled the loose papers lying on the empty seats. The courtyard was black when they stepped outside. The lamps had been extinguished.  
Harry was stunned.

Did Snape really have that much sway at the hospital?

In the courtyard, there were four brass telescopes positioned with a lantern resting by the legs. It was a curious sight, looking up at the nightsky and –amidst the thin echo of chimney smoke –seeing brilliant white stars glimmering down at them. It was a calm, still night. The silence of the city was calming compared to the hustle and bustle that accompanied the daylight hours. The dampness had dried out from the previous week.

"Pair off, all of you. We're going to be mapping the lunar cycle of this month."

There was a murmur of intrigue as well as despair at having to stand in the evening air. As the other young men paired off, Harry was suddenly aware that no one was migrating towards him.

' _Great,_ ' he inwardly sighed. ' _Alone again_.'

Oh well, it wasn't an issue. He was no stranger to working alone. Setting himself up with the brass telescope, he looked into the scope lens and adjusted it so that the image of the sky was sharper. Attached to each telescope, Snape had written them a series of coordinates to look-up and document.

Within the hour, whilst Harry's fingers cramped around his pencil stub –he wasn't stupid enough to write in ink, not when he couldn't see anything –Snape started patrolling along the line, his disapproving aura already making him sweat.

"On your own, Potter?"

Harry swallowed thickly. "Yes, sir."

"Are you having difficulties?"

"No, sir."

"Hand me your book."

It wasn't a request. Harry lifted his notebook for Snape to read. His own lamp swung from an iron hook. Snape's face remained impassive as his dark eyes flitted over Harry's handwriting. He was suddenly self-conscious about not writing in cursive.

"Don't forget to copy these out in ink as soon as you can," the tall man intoned, before passing the notebook back and continuing on his way towards the next in line.

It wasn't a compliment –but it was something.

For the remainder of the lesson, before the sky started to pale on the horizon, Harry worked relentlessly to make his observations as precise as possible, before he packed away his telescope and carried it back into the theatre, following his classmates. Back at his seat, Harry took great care in folding the papers into his notebook before tucking them away in his portfolio.

A group of the young men were talking and smoking outside yet again. Harry kept his head bowed at he passed them. Thankfully, they seemed to weary to bother talking ill of Snape or anything for that matter. From what Harry heard along the pathway, their conversation hovered around what they were going to do for the remainder of that week. Harry never had any such plans. At the very least he was going to be having an early lunch with Ronald come Wednesday.

The walk back to his rooms was calming; the promise of light made the damp grass glimmer. The streets were quiet and the hush of rustling leaves made Harry think of his calm life back home in Yorkshire. He definitely needed to get back to see his family at some point. For now, though, he needed to make them proud.


	3. 16th August 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Wednesday 16th August 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

Ronald raised his glass of ale and grinned as Harry saluted with him. It had been a rough twenty-four hours since his last lecture with Snape and the cold was only just ebbing out of his bones. He couldn't afford to have a fire going all night long. He'd had a good night sleep, though, and a large meal with his friend seemed like the perfect way to celebrate a solid rest.

"Are the lectures any good?" Ronald asked as their food was served to them.

"They're interesting," Harry nodded, placing his napkin over his lap. It wouldn't do to stain his only good pair of trousers. It was a nice place –not as high end as some of the noblemen were able to afford but it was definitely higher than his own personal preferences. It was classier than a local pub, but not as refined as a proper restaurant.

"He has a very detailed hand in regards to diagrams and reference images. Although he does seem to spring plans on us last minutes. It's very … unsettling."

"More unsettling than the way he handles cadavers?" Ron blanched as he picked up his knife and fork.

"Well that remains to be seen," Harry grinned. "We haven't done anything physically aggressive yet. Just mapping out the lunar cycle."

"Is that all?"

"And a lot of reading. That's why I've been trying to read as much as I can."

"Has he asked you to read any of these obscure books?"

"Of course!" Harry tried to bite back his laughter. It wouldn't do to choke on a steak this good! "I'm having to traipse to the library every day just in case another copy of ' _Medieval Teachings of the Occult_ ' has come back in stock."

"That's a little obvious, isn't it?" Ron asked, quirking an amused eyebrow.

"Yes and no." Harry took a sip from his cup. "It's an obvious title, yet it seems to have gotten lost in translation."

"Where did it originate from?"

"England," Harry deadpanned. "Which makes it even worse that I can't find a copy!"

"How is everyone else coping?"

"Apparently they've found copies. I'm not sure whether I believe them or not."

Ron frowned but didn't have the secrets that Harry needed. Sad, really. What else could he do? However, Ron opted to change the subject. "So, do you remember I mentioned I was starting to court that young lady from North London?"

"Distinctly."

"Well I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me and her at some point next week?"

Harry tried to keep his composure. His smile was almost ear-splitting, however. "Good job, Ron! I'm impressed! Has she already met with your parents?"

"Goodness, no! That's a torture I have reserved especially for tonight." He pulled a moody face, but the faint blush was enough of a clue. He really was enamoured with this lady.

"Youre family will love her," Harry stated with a confidence smile. Ron had a tendancy to worry too much. "Besides, it's not much what your family thinks of her. It's more about what her family thinks of you."

"I know," Ron intoned. "I have  _that_  nightmare awaiting me for this weekend."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"They're from up  _North_ , Harry!" Ron hissed. It wasn't like it was a secret; every city in the world had a North and South. "How on earth am I to compete with that? I honestly think it's because I'm training as a doctor that her father's even letting me court her!"

Harry kept his mouth shut. It wouldn't do to add to his friends worries when it came to his short-comings in the classroom. He supposed it could be an ode to Snape's teaching style. Although, it did have to be said, that if one couldn't handle the way Snape taught medicine, then perhaps one was not fit to become a doctor.

No. Ron definitely didn't need to hear  _that_.

It was almost a mercy when they finally paid their tab and made their way out into the bright sunshine. The heat was near suffocating, reminding Harry of that one morning a week where he got to walk home whilst the rest of the city stirred in their beds. Still, he breathed in the scent of wildflowers, freshly baked bread, and the salty tang of the Thames and it sloshed lazily under the bridges. The sound of carriages rolling along, the clopping of horses hooves and the sound of children laughing as they outran whomever's pocket they'd just picked –it was a strange symphony to readjust to. Harry couldn't lie though; it was nice to be out and about in the city without feeling confined. Perhaps that's why Snape taught at such odd hours?

Once they'd crossed over the Thames they went their separate ways; Ronald to go and spend time with his new lady-friend, and Harry went off in the direction of the central city library. It wasn't what he wanted to spend his Wednesday afternoon, but he really needed that book. He wanted to prove that he was as smart as any of the other men in his class. That his scholarship wasn't just an easy-way ticket.

' _I'm just as good_ ,' he thought as he came face-to-face with the tall, double oak doors. ' _I just need to find that book!_ '

The library was cool compared to the heat that baked the streets outside. The still aroma of old paper, ink and dust was cloying and comforting. It truly wouldn't be a magnificent library without that smell. Feeling comfortable, he made his way up a few steps to the main desk.

The old man behind the desk looked up from his desk, barely moving anything except his eye muscles as he regarded Harry with open disdain. "How may I help you today, sir?" he intoned.

"I was wondering if ' _Medieval Teachings of the Occult_ ' has come back in stock?"

"Like I told you last week, sir, we don't stock that particular book."

"Could you at least tell me if you ever have?" Harry asked, a bead of desperation swelling inside him.

"No, sir."

"Does you know of a store that might stock it?"

The old man rolled his eyes in exasperation. "No, sir. We only have a very small section dedicated to that particular subject. You're more than welcome to see if there are any other books that might be of use to you."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly. That was a helpful response compared to all the other times he'd questioned the man. Nodding politely, he edged his way around the weathered desk towards a small dark corner of the building. Sunlight never reached this particular bookcase –a perfect home for the books about the occult.

The air was musty, shafts of sunlight highlighting the dustmotes that swarmed behind him.

Reaching out he trailed his fingers over the old, roughened leather books. Some of their spines almost crumbled under his touch. None of the titles jumped out at him, however, and as far as he knew, Snape didn't have them on the pre-approved reading list.

"Not good … Not good … Not good …" He didn't mean to mutter. It was hard not to in the austere silence. He must have annoyed someone in the neighbouring aisle, for a shadow fell from behind him, making it impossible to read the gilded letters.

"I take it you're not finding a particular book," drawled a low, sultry voice.

Harry –despite sensing a presence behind him –jumped. Looking over his shoulder, he swallowed thickly as he came face-to-face with a tall blonde man with pure white skin and eyes as hard as steel. "I'm sorry," he finally said keeping his voice low. "Was I disturbing you?"

"Yes and no."

Harry frowned. "I'm sorry, sir –I'm not sure I understand."

"No; you weren't disturbing me because I can accustom myself with everyone's personal ticks, and yes; because I can tell that you're becoming quite vexed and I'm going to avail myself to help you. If you'll permit me?"

Harry blinked. Stunned. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not sure you can."

The man smiled, his smooth pink lips merely a shade or two darker than his skin. "Allow me to be the judge of that." Weaving his way completely into the aisle so that he was no longer blocking the light, the blonde man bent over to that his sharp eyes could scan the embossed titles. Harry watched, too stunned to do anything other than breathe –and even that seemed to require manual focus. "Do forgive me, young man," the stranger murmurder, "but I'm not entirely sure what book I'm looking for."

"Oh!" Harry felt his cheeks flush. "I'm sorry! It's … um … ' _Medieval Teachings of the Occult'."_

The stranger straightened up, his blonde hair shining in the shaft of sunlight. His face was sombre. "That's a rather dark book for someone of your age to be reading."

Harry felt himself shrink down a little. Why did he feel so judged –like a naughty child caught stealing –when the man looked at him in that way? "It's –It's for my studies, sir. Required text from my professor."

"I feel as though you should redirect your studies, young man. Studying these subjects –well –it could very well warp your judgement."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, sir, but I must insist that I need this particular text."

A blonde eyebrow quirked. "Well, I must say your insistence is quite admirable."

"It's not here, is it?" Harry murmured. He didn't need a reply. He knew that, even if the desk clerk wasn't good at his job that the book wouldn't be here. Perhaps it was time he frequented another library?

"Unfortunately, no, it doesn't appear to be." The stranger stood upright, a small frown marring his features.

Suddenly aware that he had taken up a perfect stranger's time, Harry backed up and dipped his head a little. "Forgive me, sir, I've taken up too much of your time."

The man smiled down at Harry. "It's alright. I'm happy to try and help."

Harry offered a smile. It was too natural.

He was about to turn away when the blonde man spoke up. "If it's any consolation, I have a couple of obscure books of my own on these sorts of subjects. I'd be happy to loan you a book or two, if you'd like."

Stopping dead, Harry looked up with wide eyes. "S-sir … you don't even know me."

"Perhaps we should change that." Straightening his light jacket, the man extended his hand towards Harry. It was strange, almost poetic in the way the light cut through the gloom and painted the man's pale skin with the luminescence of the sun. Harry shook the thought away. "My name is Draco Malfoy."

Accepting the hand, Harry said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

 

 

~0~

 

 

"Here's your tea, sir."

Harry flushed awkwardly as the slim maid placed a silver tray on the wrought iron table. He felt as though he was in a dream, perched in a well manicured terrace garden shrouded from the city life that bustled on by in the streets below. As Draco had led him through the London streets towards his home, Harry had felt more out-of-place than ever. He felt too dirty, too scruffy, too uncouth in comparison to the tall, blonde man who seemed to make even bricked pillars swoon in his presence. It didn't help that the man appeared rich enough to afford his own house-staff. Fiddling with his cuffs, Harry was too aware that he hadn't bathed in a few days either. The faint whiff of ether still clung to his shirt.

If Draco noticed, he didn't hint at it.

As graceful as anything, Draco poured two cups of tea, milk with two sugars each. Harry wasn't used to drinking tea in such a way. Sugar was a luxury in his home for a number of years, used mainly by his mother in regards to pastries and jams. It helped to earn them a little extra money when things got strained around Christmas. ' _Perhaps I should send mother a care package with my monthly allowance?_ ' Harry mused as he watched Draco stir the tea with a silver spoon.

"So, Harry, tell me about yourself?"

His glasses nearly fell of his nose, he was so startled.

"Um … there's not really much to know, I'm afraid."

"Nonsense. How did you come to live in London?"

Swallowing thickly, he replied; "I was granted a full scholarship to study underneath Severus Snape in Guy's hospital. I'm –training to become a physician."

"So it's your first year?"

"Y-yes."

"My condolences," the blonde chuckled.

"I bet your pardon?"

"Severus Snape, I'm afraid, is my Uncle," Draco smirked. "I can sympathise with his erratic teaching methods."

Harry sank back into his chair. This seemed –almost too much of a coincidence. "Did your uncle talk about me?" Harry asked forlornly. "Is that why he sent you to help?"

To his chagrin, Draco laughed. "Honestly, running into you was not preambled. This is merely a coincidence. Try not to read too much into it."

"So am I to assume that you  _don't_  have a copy of the book I need?" Harry challenged through gritted teeth. His hands tightened into fists in his lap.

Draco frowned. The expression looked wrong on his porcelain face. "I can understand your determination," he quirked an eyebrow at the young man. "However, I must disappoint you. No, I don't have that specific book. I have a fair few that you're more than welcome to browse."

"That's cheating," Harry ground out.

"I beg your pardon?"

Looking up, Harry narrowed his eyes at the older man. This was too perfect to happen to someone like him. It wasn't fair. He was trying so hard to be the best he could be. He wasn't going to take free hand-outs, not even from his own professor's extended family. Anger boiled in his skull. He just wanted to prove, on his own, that he was good enough. He didn't need to be baby-sat by the professor –or even his nephew!

He stood up abruptly. Draco blinked in surprise but otherwise didn't react. Harry felt ridiculous –he had an opportunity better than most in that moment. With clenched fists and jaw, Harry shook his head. "I'm –I'm sorry, sir, to reject such niceties but I'm afraid I must decline your help." Taking a deep breath, he straightened up and looked Draco in the eye. "Thank you for your time. You've been most kind."

Draco regarded him. "Mr. Potter, sit down."

"I have errands to run," Harry lied. "I've taken up too much of your time. Have a pleasant evening."

Without a moment to lose, he turned on his heel and hurried on through the building, taking care to follow the route they'd used to ascend to the balcony.

Back out on the street, he gulped in the dirty hot air and felt queasy. This was too foreign to him. What on earth was Snape's game? Trying to force-feed him help from a third party source? That was so harsh! Had he truly proven himself that incompetent during their last three lectures that his professor needed to ambush him with hands-outs?

His eyes burned a little. Cuffing his eyes, he ground his teeth together and started to walk in a direction. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going. He needed to cross over the Thames, that's all he could focus on. Making his way to one of the bridges was all he needed to keep in mind.

By the time he crossed over to his side of the water, the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, leaching the last dregs of pink, purple and orange from the sky.

Night had fallen by the time he stepped into his building.

The room was exactly as he'd left it. The window had been opened thanks to his landlord. Yet the fire –he hadn't left that burning. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end. His senses were on alert. Leaving the door ajar, he edged into the room. There was only one other door that led off from his small room –and that led into the washroom. Straining his ears, he tried to catch a sound of anyone else in the room.

Silence.

"Hello?" he called out, his heart leaping into his throat. Bending low, he grabbed a blunt chair leg from under his coffee table by the fireplace. His palms were sweating as he edged further into the room.

"Who's in here?"

The lock slid back. The sound dropped like a lead weight in his stomach.

The shock of white-blonde hair startled him. Draco regarded him with a vaguely impressed look. "Put that down, Mr. Potter."

It was all too much. Harry's arms quaked and faltered down to his sides. Draco looked so stark and clean, like a marble slab tossed in the slums. It just didn't fit! He was too clean, too neat, too perfect –so much so that he seemed to dwarf everything in the room.

"How did you get in here?" Harry rasped out.

"I bribed your landlord. He seemed more than happy to take the money," Draco stated casually. "As a matter of fact, I'd consider moving. If your landlord is going to sell you out for a couple extra shillings –well, you wouldn't want him in charge of your rooms."

"How did you get here before me?"

"I asked my driver to bring me."

"Why?"

"I felt bad for making you feel inadequate and I wanted to apologise for my behaviour."

Harry floundered for a moment. Draco hadn't exactly done anything out of the ordinary for himself. It had simply irked Harry, rubbed him up the wrong way because it had all been thrown at him too quickly. He hadn't been able to process it. Dropping the chair leg back in its place under his armchair, he raked both hands through his hair and closed his eyes.

 _'Breathe … one … two … three … breathe …_ '

"Would you like some tea?"

"I don't have –" he stopped as he opened his eyes. There, on his small table that he ate at, was a fine china set. Two teacups and a teapot. "You brought tea?" For some reason, the notion made him smile. He didn't mean to –it was just so strange.

"You seemed agitated. I wanted to apologise." He said it as though that was explanation enough. Harry sat down in his other chair. It wasn't as fine as his armchair but in that moment he didn't think he'd be able to relax. He accepted a cup of tea. "I am sorry for making you feel suspicious of my uncle. To be perfectly honest, the only information I was able to get from him was your home address. It still took me some time to find out exactly where you lived."

"You didn't need to follow me."

"Perhaps not," Draco conceded, raising his cup. "I also didn't need to overwhelm you."

"Perhaps not."

The mimickery made the blonde man smile. Why did that make Harry's stomach knot. ' _Nerves_ ,' his mind hissed. ' _You're still jumpy from before'_.

"By way of apology," Draco continued as he set his cup and saucer on the table. "I am loaning you my books on the occult. I figured you've had more use of them right now, than I would for the rest of the year." He gave a lazy smirk to the astounded brunette man. "Although, I will ask that you return them as neatly as possible. Some of those are rare unabridged first editions. Worth a good thousand."

"WHAT?"

The teacup almost fell to the floor.

Draco looked at him. He wasn't perplexed. "They are rare books, Mr. Potter."

"Forgive me, Draco, but I can't accept this."

Draco sighed before reaching out and grasping Harry's shoulder. "Listen to me, Mr. Potter. There is something in you that is quite admirable. Harness that tenacity and use it to further yourself. It doesn't matter how you get the tools to perform the job, as long as you  _can_  perform it to the best of your abilities."

Harry watched the older man and felt his muscles turn to stone. He really had no way to argue against it. Licking his lips, he bowed his head. "Okay –thank you for the generous gift."

"No thanks is necessary, Mr. Potter," Draco said. "All you need to do is make sure that you try and excel at your studies."

Harry frowned. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I have been away for a while. My father made a huge argument against me that I was a selfish, entitled brat. In a way, I have been trying to redeem myself."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Draco smirked. "I noticed you coming into the library over the last two weeks. Always asking or the same book and always getting the same answer." He straightened up and steeped his fingers in his lap. "I must confess, I felt a little pity for you. I was concerned that you were wasting your time. Time that could have been better spent elsewhere."

Harry pressed his lips together in thought.

Draco watched his reaction and stiffened. He really was out of place in the small room. "I apologise," he finally said, drinking down the last of his tea. "I appear to have over-stepped my bounds once again. I need to work on that, it seems."

"It's not that!" Harry gushed out as Draco stood from the armchair. "I'm –I'm just not used to good things happening in my life. It's hard to accept them."

"Never look a gift-horse in the mouth, Mr. Potter," Draco said. "They bite."

Harry looked down at his hands, feeling a little on edge about the entire day. "I'm not sure how to feel right now, but I will feel grateful come the morning."

Surprisingly, Draco let a slow smile cross over his mouth. "I believe I can accept that," he said. "However, it's rather late and I think we both need to be up at first light." With a quirk of his eyebrow, he quickly packed away his tea-set, something Harry was still amused by, before making his way towards the door.

Harry hovered behind him, feeling awkward still. The entire day felt like a strange dream. At the door, he held onto the wooden frame as Draco looked in the entrance, blocking the murky yellow light from the hall. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Potter." He held out his hand.

Harry looked down at the hand and felt his own palm itch. "Um … please, I'd really rather prefer it if you'd just call me 'Harry'."

With a wide grin Draco grabbed his hand. "I think I can do that … Harry."

The growl made Harry's stomach flip. Still, Draco gripped his hand an extra moment before disappearing down the steps and into the night.


	4. 18th August 1888

**_~0~_ **

_**Friday 18th August 1888** _

_**~0~** _

Snape had sent them all a letter instructing them to attend a lecture in the hospital on Friday evening. Harry didn't mind too much; he'd merely been about to have drinks with Draco but the blonde man hadn't argued when he'd popped around Thursday morning to decline the invitation. In fact, Draco had been more than happy to encourage Harry to go to the impromptu lecture.

"You can't not go," Draco had said. "The man does not take absences lightly. He'll make your remaining lessons hell if you skip for no reason."

Raking his hair back out of his eyes, he adjusted his glasses and pushed his way into the theatre. The same smell of wood and beeswax cloyed at his senses as he shuffled around, making his way into the lower ring of benches. Everyone seemed to sit in the first two rows now; it wasn't productive to be 'taking a stand' by sitting too far out of the only source of light in the room. It made Harry feel a little uncomfortable as he barely spoke to anyone else. It made for very lonely study sessions. The late summer heat had seeped into the room throughout the course of the day, bleeding into the woodwork and exuding onto the small cloister of young men tugging uncomfortable at their collars. It was a dry awkward heat that ebbed out, making the process of thinking and paying attention to their professor a daunting challenge.

Harry couldn't deny his curiosity when he saw a long table stretched out in place of the podium. Upon the surface were numerous specimens in glass jars back-lit by about twenty candles. It cast a dull yellow glow over the first two rows of seats. The blackboard already adorned a large, detailed sketch of the human body –both inside and out. However, for once Harry's hands weren't itched to label diagrams all day.

Thanks to his other lectures with Snape –during more hours of the day –they had gotten onto handling real, human specimens. The smells made his stomach coil and his gag reflex threatened to flare up but he managed to quash it down to focus on the task at hand.

"This evening we'll be correctly identifying specimens of the human body as well as matching specimens from acclaimed supernatural creatures."

There was a murmur among the students. Even Harry felt his muscles tense. He could only see the top half of the jars from his vantage point. His palms started to sweat a little as Snape swept from side-to-side on the slightly raised platform, the candlelight making his skin looked ever waxier.

 _'_ _How do you know he's not a vampire?_ _'_  hissed the voice at the back of his mind.

Harry shook his head and tried to focus.

For this lecture they needed to partner up with someone. Harry felt his stomach drop. This was going to be the lunar-mapping all over again. There was only so much worked he'd be able to do on his own. As the rest of the class moved around to seat in three pairs, Harry felt his skin grow hot as eyes landed on him, alone again.

Swallowing, he tried to ignore them.

The banging of the double doors made everyone jump. A shot of sticky air flooded the room dragging in the scent of baked cobblestones and dry grass. All heads had turned to look at the latecomer as he swept the doors shut as though they weighed nothing. Harry frowned, almost rising out of his seat to get a better look. Apparently, being at the front of the classroom had disadvantages as well.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor," a sultry voice drawled. The tap, tap, tapping of polished shoes descending the stairs made Harry flinch. A shock of platinum hair swam into view, and he thought he was going to faint.

_It was Draco.  
_

Snape gave the younger man a haughty glare before straightening up over him. Harry hadn't imagined anyone as tall as Draco, yet he was just on par with Snape's hooked nose. "Don't bore us with excuses. Get an apron and gloves on and get to work."

' _Wow_ ', Harry thought _. '_ _He really doesn't go easy on his own family_ _.'  
_

Draco gave a sideways smirk, draping his cloak and walking cane into an empty seat before going to the back of the room where Severus kept rubber gloves and aprons for manual tasks. When he stepped back into the light, Harry was awestruck at how elegant the man managed to make chemical-soaked rubber look. It was impressive.

"Well what're you waiting for?" Snape sneered at the seven young men. "Get the uniform on and stand at this table in two minutes."

"Sir, you haven't even told us what we're –"

"One minute, fifty-seven."

Harry had never seen them move faster. As he moved over the raised platform, he walked past Draco as he was snapping the black rubber glove in place. The sound was so satisfying in the din of shuffling feet and stink of beexwax and formaldyhyde. He slid his eyes over to Harry and smirked. The brunette man had to focus intently on tying the apron around him and slipping his hands into a pair of gloves. _  
_

 _'_ _Focus_ _!'_  his brained snapped _. '_ _You can't mess up now he's here!'_

They split off into their pairs around the table. Snape took centre stage, his own rubber gloves covering the sleeves of his tailored black tunic. He popped the glass lid off the nearest jar –that holding a human brain –filling the air with the toxic smell of flesh and chemicals. Harry clamped his jaw tight. He was not going to vomit on the professors specimens! They were hard to come by as it was.

"Today," Snape's voice echoed despite the hostile level he always maintained. "We are going to be comparing human samples next to afflicted samples. Since the brain is the highest functioning organ in our body, you should acknowledge that it should be significantly different to an afflicted brain."

He was silent for a moment.

"Where are your notebooks?"

Without bothering to question him, seven young men hurried to retrieve their notebooks and begin doing as they had done in every other lecture; detailed diagrams and labels prepared for when the diagnostics were explained. As Harry was sketching out the human brain, Draco chuckled quietly beside him. Was this amusing to him? Watching his uncle antagonise people?

By the end of the first hour Draco had a more prominent role in directing the class. This left Harry alone with a very noticeable emptiness on the bench beside him. However, he reasoned it was a good thing. That last thing he needed was to be branded as a teacher's pet by the rest of the class. Draco was standing at the black board. He still had his rubber gloves on as he continued to label the two diagrams drawn. Snape was standing off to the side, observing. Each time someone guessed an answer correctly, he made a small note in a pad tucked away in his sleeve.

He also made a note of all the incorrect answers.

Harry found that he kept looking over when the book came out. He focused on the board; Draco's sketches were quite remarkable –almost as good as Snape's own. Had he taught his nephew, perhaps?

"Come on, men!" Draco snapped. He had no problem raising his voice to all kind of levels it appeared. "The Lupine brain is clearly different! Now I want you to tell me how!"

No one answered.

Draco glowered at them before turning to another blackboard and stabbing his cane at it. "Possible werewolf skull. What are the differences?"

Silence.

"Good God, men! How have you managed to trudge through your studies if you refuse to answer such simple questions?" he sneered. "First of all, the lupine brain is clearly accustomed to sitting in this oversized canine skull, however it is a fat hybrid of both a wolf brain and a human brain. The nervous system within appears to be similar, however a few of the nerves become inactive and new ones seem to emerge!" He drew a deep breath before continuing; "Now the werewolf skull is clearly reminiscent of a human one, however the jaw line elongates and scarring is caused by the teeth!"

As a demonstration, he pushed five wooden fangs out of a replicated model on the side of the table. The wooden fangs slotted in when pushed, and retracted when he pulled. Could that really happen every month? Surely the pain when becoming human would make any man fear for his own life, let alone others!

Harry hastened to scribble down everything he was saying. Not that he needed to; he'd already figured out the majority of what the blonde was prattling on about, but it was so intriguing to watch him lose his temper. Harry hadn't the heart to stop him. Even his well manicured hair fell out of place and into his eyes as he stabbed at the boards with his cane.

"Draco, control yourself. Otherwise we won't get onto the difference between human hearts and a vampires heart."

Draco drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Snape having a calming effect on someone was almost as peculiar as the lectures themselves. Or perhaps it was the cloying chemical aroma in the air?

Somehow, describing and analysing the differences between a healthy human heart and that of a vampiric demon, was much simpler than comparing skulls and brains based on their size. Harry could only imagine that the rest of his class simply didn't want to be yelled at or witness Snape making notes throughout the rest of the lecture. Whatever it was, the other six seemed to be more attentive.

"So who wants to go first?" Draco asked, cocking a blonde eyebrow.

They were all crowded around the table. Two mechanisms had been set-up, each with a heart wired into it. Small tubes seemed to weave in and out of the valves. Faint smears of blood shone on the tables' surface. Draco was holding a syringe; in it was black writing ink. The experiment was to see the way the veins and heart worked when processing blood. Harry itched to try but –couldn't. The needle gleamed in the candlelight.

"Human or vampire, who is going first?" There was a tight edge to Draco's voice now. There were a few faint whiskers on his jaw line. They seemed a lot darker than his natural hair colour.

"I'll go!"

Harry barely remembered how it happened; one second he was pressed his stomach into the table, the next, Dracos gloves hands slid over his own as he slipped the needle into the top of the valve. His hand tremored –proximity to the freshly cleaned blonde man and the chemicals was gut churning –and squeezed. Veins streaked across the organ before spurting out of the other valve. Easy and simple –a healthy human heart.

"Takes notes, gentlemen!" Draco stated, already armed with the second syringe. "Now, let's see what happens with the vampire specimen."

The whole class seemed to hold their breath. It was one thing to have an 'alleged' specimen, however to have an organ so fantastical was dizzying. Harry tried to quell the tremor in his hand. His glasses seemed to slip a little down his nose as he slipped the needle into the valve. Ever-so-slowly, he pressed the plunger.

The veins were instantly black –no changes there. However, instead of spurting out the other valve, the ink seemed to soak into a solid ball in the center of the muscle before disappearing. A stunned silence fell over their heads.

Harry forced the lump in his throat back down. "What –just happened?"

"That, Harry, is a very good question," Draco said. His tone implied that he would not be so forthcoming with an answer as he was his praise. Turning to the rest of the class, he stated; "What you saw was a stark contrast in how hearts are supposed to work. Unfortunately, it is as yet undetermined where or how the blood is used throughout the rest of the demons body. This will be your homework!"

Harry felt his head spin. Homework about hearts? Where was he supposed to find medical journals that detailed such anamolies?

The bell chimed when they were practically finished clearing away the hall. The table needed to be soaked and scrubbed, the aprons and gloves being tossed into a large canvas sack for thorough cleaning. It wouldn't do to contaminate the rest of their specimens –or indeed the other students –with the materials they were using. Not that it mattered to Draco or Snape. The two men had given clear instructions before departing into a sideroom. Harry couldn't stop himself from glancing over at the door. There weren't any raised voices, yet he knew that that didn't mean much in regards to Snape.

He strained, trying not to look too suspicious. Not that the rest of the class paid him any mind. They rarely did.

He was the only one left in the hall by the time the door open and Draco marched out, his fists clenched and his jaw set. He looked rattled. Had Snape admonished him? He stopped short when he spotted Harry about to climb the steps to the door. "One moment, Mr. Potter. I'll walk you out."

The weight of his presence beside him made Harry feel a lot safer as he stepped out into the black night. They walked along mostly in silence, the tap, tap, tapping of Draco's shoes and cane on the cobbles filling the mild air between them. "So how did you like the lecture?"

"I was surprised to see you there," Harry admitted. "It was extremely satisfying though. I feel like we were soon to stagnate in our studies."

"Never underestimate my uncle," Draco stated archly. Softening his tone, he said; "Are you intrigued by the homework?"

"Intrigued and frustrated, yes."

"Why so?"

Harry flushed, clutching his portfolio tighter under his arm. "The studies are difficult. I'll need to locate certain journals."

"Nonsense!" Draco waved him off with a smirk. "You don't need all that extra reading material. All you need is to think about what you tonight and make it articulate."

"What if I struggle? I don't want Snape to look down on me."

"If you like, I can give you some advice before next weeks lecture?"

Harry stopped in the street, looking up at the blonde with narrowed eyes. "Why are you trying to help me?"

"Truthfully?"

"Yes."

"Because I see potential in you. I want you to harness that and do great things with it!"

Harry shook his head, "You don't even know me."

"Nor do you know me." He arched a blonde eyebrow, making Harry squirm. His eyes were far too intense. "Trust me, Harry. I promise you, I can help."

There was no denying that he was still hesitant. He couldn't help that. Perhaps it was from working hard all his life. He didn't like handouts, not even from friends. It's why he insisted on paying half the tab whenever he dined with Ronald, even if he couldn't really afford it. "Fine," he eventually said. "I shall accept advice. However, that's where I draw the line."

A slow smile spread over Draco's face. "Very well. I can agree to that."

As they began to walk, Harry tilted his head up at the sky. It was like a vast black canvas, sparsely dotted with stars. "It's a half moon tonight," he observed. "We should have a full one in a couple of weeks."

Draco followed his gaze up to the sky. A chill whispered at the leaves. "Indeed," was all he said as they drew closer to Whitechapel.


	5. 27th August 1888

* * *

**_~0~_ **

_**Monday 27th August 1888** _

_**~0~** _

 

For the next couple of weeks, Harry had to admit that he barely saw the inside of his rooms until the dead of night. There was a murmuring in the dark ends of the London alleyways. Talk of a criminals cutting down people on their way home. It made him a little edgy when he made his way to and from his lectures, but other than that life seemed to carry on as usual. He did envy Ronald a little, getting to go home when the streets were still busy with the swarm of drunkards that lurked in every glowing doorway.

It was only once a week, he reasoned.

That Monday he awoke late in the afternoon when someone knocked loudly on his door. Grunting through his sleep haze, Harry stumbled to the door. He still had five hours before his lecture at the mortuary with Snape and the other hundred and fifty young men remaining, intent on becoming a doctor. Through bleary eyes, Harry grappled with the doorhandle and finally got the door to swing inwards.

"Hello?" he croaked.

"You were asleep weren't you?" drawled a cool voice.

It sent a shiver down Harry's spine though not in the foreboding way it had the first time they'd met. Backing away from the light he rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes. "I'm sorry –I didn't meant to be rude."

"Do you have lectures today?" Draco asked, ignoring Harry's apology.

Finding his glasses and sliding them onto his nose, Harry nodded. "Y-yes. At 9PM."

"Perfect. That'll give us enough time."

"For what?" Harry frowned.

"For dinner," Draco stated as though it were obvious. "I think you should be prepared for what's to come in your lecture tonight. I don't want you to be surprised."  
Harry felt his insides twist and turn. "What –what do you know?"

"Nevermind that now. Put some clothes on and then we can have a decent meal before you need to be locked away in that dungeon."

"It's hardly a dungeon," Harry chastised as he blindly groped for the clean clothes hanging in front of the stove.

Draco ignored him –thankfully –as he got dressed. He was torn between wearing something decent for wherever Draco was going to take him, and wearing something worn-out and old for whatever was to come in the lectures. In the wash-room, Harry untangled his hair, scrubbed his hands and face and inspected his reflection in the small, cracked mirror before sighing. It was the best as he was going to get. Straightening up, he left the bathroom, steeling himself for the evening ahead.

Harry was glad that'd he'd taken an extra few minutes to scrub himself free of soot and grime. He often wondered how Draco could stand being around him half the time. It was a wonder that the blonde man would stomach being in the same breathing space as him. Swallowing thickly, he pressed his back into the padded chair. This was definitely the place where cleanliness was born; even the glasses were real crystal! Not the fake, stained glass that wound up in everyones kitchen –this was the real deal!

"You're fiddling again," Draco stated without looking up from the menu. Yes, there were menus in this place! No smudged chalk words on a black painted scrap of wood.

Harry glanced down. He blushed. He was fiddling with his shirtsleeves again. It was a habit he seemed to have when he was, as Draco put it, 'out of his element'. "Sorry," he mumbled, stuffing his hands under his thighs. He glanced at the menu and felt the blood drain from his face.

 _'Out of my element, indeed_ ,' he inwardly groaned.

"Have you decided what you want?" Draco asked.

"I … um …" Harry blushed again. "Perhaps you should just order for me. I … don't really have experience with this."

Draco looked momentarily surprised. Pursing his lips into a smile, he smiled before signalling for a waiter. With food and a little more wine ordered –fresh, fruity wine that went straight to Harry's head –Harry relaxed a little as he eyed his surroundings yet again. It really was spectacular!

"How are things going in your lectures?" Draco asked.

"Rather well," Harry admitted. "Snape says that, if we're lucky, we might get more specimens to experiment with and see how they function." There was a muted silence before Harry dropped his gaze to his plate. Suddenly, the room felt really warm. "Draco?"

"Mmm?"

"What purpose does it serve Snape to study these things?"

Perhaps it was the wrong question, as a dark look crossed the blonde man's face. "Unfortunately Harry, my uncle is rather eccentric in his beliefs. If there is a mystery to be solved or a cure to be found, he will work on it until he's dead."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Really? He doesn't seem the type."

Draco gave a small smile. "No, he doesn't does he?"

That ended the conversation. Harry tried not to think about it too much. What else could he do? He just needed to focus on his studies and hope that the theoretical work was up to Snape's standards. He felt a little guilty, always talking about Snape and his lectures with Draco, however he couldn't deny that -without those things -his life would be extremely monotonous.

"I was planning on going to see my family this week?" Harry finally said.

Draco raised his eyebrows, a small smile crawling onto his mouth. "Have you not seen them since you came down here?"

Harry shook his head. "No, unfortunately. I was only planning to go back at Christmas."

"Oh, so what made you change your mind?" the blonde asked.

"Just a feeling, I guess," Harry shrugged. It was true. He hadn't known what had caused it, but over the last few days he'd felt this niggling at the back of his mind that he needed to see his family before the yule tide season. "Not to mention, my dad is the town Doctor. I'm sure he'd love to see what I've been studying."

"You mean the traditional lessons?" Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Not the extra-curricular lectures?"

"Oh no!" Harry said. "My father wouldn't understand. He'd say that I was wasting my life away."

Draco chuckled. It was a low sound that made Harry feel more at ease with himself and his company. "So how is it you're not teaching with Snape?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't have the patience for it," he stated. "Besides, if I were teaching I wouldn't be able to see that look of concentration you get when you're trying to draw the diagrams."

"It's not concentration," Harry huffed. "I can't see. I'm practically blind."

Draco rolled his eyes but didn't comment. They remained quiet for the next while, as they finished their meal and Draco made his way to pay. Harry kept his eyes averted, not wanting to feel the twist of jealousy he felt whenever he saw someone with more dispensible money than he had. It was a stupid feeling.

Walking out into the sunshine, both men had to take a moment to catch their breath. The heat was like a heavy hand pressing down on their shoulders. Draco draped his cloak over his arm and proceeded to walk along the cobbled pavements, his cane clicking softly. Harry watched the cane move, the silver head catching the sun. He couldn't deny that he didn't see the point of the cane. Draco didn't even have the suggestion of a limp. Was it a psychological thing? He wasn't sure, but he wasn't foolish enough to ask no matter how much it piqued his interest.

"So you won't be back until later this week?" Draco asked.

Harry dabbed his brow with his handkerchief. "I'm leaving first thing in the morning and should be back Friday afternoon. It's not long but it was the cheapest ticket they had on offer."

"I don't mind lending you some money."

Harry snorted and smiled. "Sorry, Draco, but I don't accept money from friends. I don't like charity in regards to my lifestyle. I saved up enough money and can afford a return ticket for a few days. That'll be enough time to spend some quality time with my family and relax. The city really is like a beehive."

Draco stiffened a little but nodded. "I suppose I can respect that. You want to be a self-made man and you're starting from the ground up. That's definitely admirable at least."

Peering up at the blonde man, Harry was intrigued by the set of his jaw and the stiffness to his posture. "Are you anxious about me leaving London?" For some reason this thought made him smile.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Not especially, no. I just worry that you'll grow homesick and want to stay there."

"I'm already homesick. Going home now is what's going to curb that."

Draco stopped and stared down at the brunette man. They were definitely a strange pair; an aristocratic blonde man with a cane and silk waistcoat and pocketwatch staring down into the face of a young brunette man, with round glasses tucked around his ears, an old white shirt under a weathered waistcoat and slacks. Even the finer details –like their hair –were a stark contrast to the other.

"I just want you to be cautious, Harry," Draco stated, all joviality leaving his voice. His tone –and expression –was severe. "There are murmurs going around that police are having difficulties with some type of killer. It could be nothing or it could be a one-off. Either way they are trying to determine the threat before alerting the papers." His arm shot out and gripped Harry's upper arm. "I just want you to be safe."

A fluttering sensation ghosted through Harry's chest. The sincereity and severity in those grey eyes was almost overwhelming. "I promise to be safe," he vowed, noting that Draco did not release his grip. "Not to mention, I'll only be gone a few days. If anything, you might be the one in danger."

Something flickered in those grey eyes that he couldn't perceive.

Harry grinned. His arm felt naked and clammy when Draco's hand slipped back down to rest at his side. "Now, I need to pack my things and head on to my lecture. If you like, we could possibly have a drink afterwards?"

"At 11pm?" Draco chuckled. "Maybe I will just see you off at the station in the morning."

Harry felt his heart drop in his chest, but ignored it. "Okay. I wouldn't want you to postpone any plans because of me."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Harry."

How was it that the man knew just the perfect tone to say his name? It sent a shiver running through him. "Have a nice evening, Draco. Thank you for lunch."

"It was my pleasure."

They kept eye contract for a while longer, before Harry gave a curt nod and made his way up the stone steps to the hospital building. At the double doors, he turned and blinked in surprise. Draco had vanished so quickly from the courtyard that he wasn't even sure he'd heard the crunch of the gravel. With a frown, he turned his back on the daylight and entered the soothing, cool gloom of the lecture hall.

 

 

~0~

 

 

A hand rested on his shoulder with a soothing squeeze. Harry looked up into the gentle face of his mother as she set a bowl of soup down in front of him. It was piping hot, fresh from the stove, and smelled of 'home'. "I know it's the middle of summer, but this is a new recipe Mrs. Munnick gave me. When I heard you were coming home for a few days, I couldn't resist."

Harry leaned his head on her knuckles and kissed her hands. There were slightly calloused from her being a seamstress, but she loved her work. Her hands portrayed that love and determination. It was one of the subtle glimpses of her beauty.

"Thanks Mama," he said, picking up a spoon and starting to eat. He didn't care that it scalded his tongue, it was delicious! "When do you think Papa will be home?"

"The sun set about an hour ago. I'd imagine he'll be back soon. Probably just finishing up with a last minute patient."

Harry shook his head in response. As he continued to eat, he was amazed at how relaxed the atmosphere felt. Even in their little cottage, the resonating aura from the town was humbling and cosy. In London, it felt as though even breathing was an expense that would line the tax-mans pockets. If they had been a good hundred or so miles south, there would be a tremor of anxiety in his mother's voice, panicking about what was holding his Papa up. Not here, though.

He was almost finished with his second bowl of soup by the time his Papa came in through the back door. He had no cloak of hat –the balmy air rushing in with him –and dumped his leather case on the floor. "Harry my boy!" he exclaimed as he crossed the kitchen and enveloped his son in a strong hug. Harry gasped out with a grin as he awkwardly hugged his Papa back. James Potter beamed down at his son as he ruffled his hair –a geasture that had grown with their through Harry's infancy.

"Are you hungry, dear?"

"Absolutely not!" James stated shaking his head as he made his way over to the stove. Taking the bowl and ladle from his wife's hands, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "You sit down and rest. I can serve myself."

Lily smiled gently, before brushing her hair out of her bright eyes and making her way to sit across from Harry. James served himself and his wife with a bowl of soup and some crusty bread. Harry watched as his Papa touched her shoulder affectionately as he made his way to the head of the table, the firelight from the hearth illuminating their little family.

"So Harry was do you plan on doing here for the next few days?" James asked.

"I've not thought about it too much," Harry stated. "I just wanted to come home before the Christmas season. I might have a lot of studying to do then, too. I thought it'd be best to see you when I'm less frazzled."

"Is it really that difficult?" Lily asked.

"Oh, I'm managing!" he said, feeling a hot flush creep up the back of his neck. "The professor is intense but pragmatic in his techniques. We've already gotten onto experimenting with real human organs."

"Already?" James raised an amused eyebrow. "You were almost too squeamish to touch a toad before you left to go down to London."

Lily chuckled as her son grew flustered. "Honestly, Papa, I wasn't that bad!"

"Oh, yes you were!" James clapped his son on the shoulder. "We are proud of you, son. You have a great opportunity here. If you get busy, we understand. We just want to hear from you every once in a while so that we know you're alive and doing well."

"So have you been making any friends down there?" Lily asked, breaking a small chunk of bread off.

"I have a few, here and there," Harry said offhandedly. "I've recently befriended the Professor's nephew."

"That's a strange line to follow with," James observed.

"I know. It was purely by coincidence that we came to meet, but I have been fortunate in doing so. Everyone else has funds and ways to get some of the more delicate journals and textbooks I need for my personal study sessions. Thanks to my knowing Draco, I am able to gain just as much access to these materials as the richer students."

"Is that really fair that you would have struggled without this young man?" Lily asked with a heavy frown.

"Perhaps not. The professor might have helped. I just never got to the point of needing to ask."

"Oh listen to him!" Lily exclaimed, "He's getting a right little London accent!"

Harry blushed as she pinched his cheek but didn't brush her away. It was nice having someone taking care of him. It suddenly made all those long nights in his small lodgings feel even more claustrophobic and depressing. "Mama don't tease," he mumbled weakly through a grin as she cleared the table of the empty bowls.

Once everything was stacked by the basin, she turned towards them, drawing her light shawl across her shoulders. "I'm going to head up to bed. Its lovely having you back Harry." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and squeezed him gently.

He hugged her back, before watching her silhouette make its way up the spiral staircase. A shaft of moonlight peeped in through the narrow window and illuminated her trail. Turning back to his Papa, Harry was surprised to see that the man had brought over two goblets and a bottle of wine. Pouring some for the both of them. Raising the goblets, they gave a silent toast and took a sip. The warmth of the wine and the fire mingled to make his mind completely relax.

"So how're things really, down in London?" James asked.

"I've told you."

"I mean really, Harry. Is something bothering you?"

"Honestly Papa? I worry that I'm out of my depth," he shuddered. He hadn't wanted to admit it out loud. Wine really did loosen his tongue. Spinning the goblet in front of him, Harry looked up and chewed his bottom lip.

"Everyone feels like that at one time or another," James stated. "Even I did when I was younger."

"Not anymore?"

"Sometimes I get it," the older man admitted. "If I've encountered something I've not much experience in. Or when I have a patient I simply cannot cure. Sometimes you just need to push through the indecision and make the only option sound like the best option."

Harry hummed to himself and took another sip of wine. "I've … been doing some extra lessons too."

"Oh? And what do those teach?"

"Promise you won't judge me?"

"I can promise to try," James teased.

"They're lessons based on the biological structures and functions of supposed supernatural beings."

Looking up, he winced at the expression on his Papa's face. He rarely ever wore it. It was a mixture of being stern and concerned all at once. "Are you saying you want to follow that lead of study?" James asked carefully.

Harry shook his head. "To be perfectly honest, Papa, I don't know where the specimens come from –perhaps they are from another race of people –however I know that I am making headway. As long as I can improve my skills and techniques, I am certain that the Professor will be impressed."

"Do you need to impress him this much?" the older man frowned.

"If I am going to get a decent job in the city, then yes. His approval can make or break people."

"Well I can't discourage your determination."

Harry jerked his head up. He frowned. Why was his Papa being so lenient? Most people he knew –even the more accepting ones –frowned upon what Snape taught. It was only because he was a renowned Physician that the hospital board of directors allowed him to teach such things.

"Why –aren't you judging me?"

"Harry, we all have to do things we don't like to get ahead. If anything, you might pick-up a more open minded approach to some medical emergencies. That can only be a good thing."

Feeling his Papa's offhanded praised made the wine taste sour in his mouth. He didn't have the heart to tell his Papa that he was actually enjoying studying the extracurricular lectures after hours. He didn't go into anymore detail though. His Papa would tell his mum and then she would worry about him.

Harry didn't need them to worry.

Draining the last of his wine, Harry pushed his chair back from the table and made his way over to the basin. It was a weatherd old stone thing, naturally carved out of a large rock. It had a draining system to the outside which was useful, but other than that it was a strange thing. Hanging from the window frame were some painted glass beads. When the sun shone through, they'd catch the light and paint pretty patterns on the bare walls.

Almost every room in the cottage had them.

"I think I'm going to head up to bed," Harry announced, turning away from the window.

"Alright son, you go and get some rest. You've had a hard days travelling."

Ducking his head, Harry pressed a 'goodnight' kiss to his Papa's unshaven jaw, before crossing the kitchen and mounting the spiral staircase.

Up in his bedroom at the top of the cottage, Harry stripped down to his shirt-tails and slipped into the cool sheets. They probably hadn't been turned-down since he left for London. The whole room felt warm and uninhabited. It somehow made the place feel even more cosy and welcoming.  
'Perhaps I was more homesick than I thought,' he mused as he lie on his back on the soft bed. With an arm curled under his head, he watched the blur of the clouds move across the chalky white moon.

It was beautiful.

It was hard to believe it was the same moon he saw whenever he walked home from the hospital in the early hours of the morning. This moon was softer, smoother and just more welcoming than that cold, hard disk that floated in the black sky. He wondered if –when he got back down to London –Snape would make them create another Luna map for the upcoming month. He wasn't opposed to the idea. He'd much rather do it while the weather was still warm.

Did he even wanted to go back?

Of course he did! He was anxious to know what they would get to study next as well as the outcomes of their experiments. However, as he let his head sink back down into the goose feather pillows, he knew that he was in no hurry. Not yet. He needed a few days to simply switch his mind off and be in a nurturing environment. Harry couldn't deny that he missed his family. He was only human, after all.

' _What about Draco's family?_ ' asked a voice in the back of his head. ' _He doesn't even mention his parents. Does he have siblings? The only person he speaks of is his uncle_.'

Harry frowned. He hadn't really noticed it until that moment. Draco was always alone; whether it was at his home or when he spoke of his daily life –family was never present. How odd.

Turning onto his side, Harry pulled the sheet over his shoulders and stared out of the moors just beyond the village lights. The hills were softly illuminated by the moon swelling in the sky. A shiver ran down his spine.

' _It's almost full_ ,' he thought idly as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! The next chapter is going to be a bit more ... dramatic ... so stay tuned!


	6. 31st August 1888

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The following chapter will contain some graphic imagery. I apologise for any distress caused.

**_~0~_ **

**_Friday 31st August 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

Stepping off the train and onto the platform Harry drew in a deep breath. It was still morning –probably only about eleven o'clock –but he hadn't wanted to run the risk of turning up late to Snape's lecture with all his belongings in hand. Juggling his cases –one really an old leather case his mother had lovingly stocked food in for him –he managed to walk through the station without knocking into anyone.

Out on the main street he was greeted by the appearance of Draco's driver leaning out of a horse-drawn carriage. He had insisted that he hadn't needed an escort home, however the blonde man had been insistent. Now that he had extra luggage, Harry had to admit that he was grateful for it. The man inclined his head as Harry approached, before dutifully taking the two cases and strapping them to the roof. Harry climbed up into the carriage and sighed as his back relaxed into the padded seat.

The ride to his lodgings was smooth as it could be on the cobbelstones. It had rained the previous evening and the pavements were still sleek with drying puddles. He heard a slight commotion as they passed by Buck's Row. Frowning, he tried to see what had happened out of the window, but there was such a dense crowded that he could barely make out the rounded hat of a constable. ' _Oh well,'_  he thought. ' _Probably some drunkard getting into trouble_.'

Once he was home, he set the fire up. Whilst it bloomed over the dried logs inside, he propped his cases on the small wooden table under the window and started to unpack the food. A lot of them were in air-tight clay containers. His mother swore by them and, to her credit, they did keep the food fresher for longer. He stocked them in the lower shelves of his cupboard that doubled as a pantry. At least he wouldn't be starving for the next couple of weeks.

By midday Harry had boiled water for a shallow bath and scrubbed the train journey off of his skin. As the warm daylight brightened his room, he lounged about in his armchair, pouring over his notebooks for Snape's class. The few days away had cleared the cobwebs from his head and he could finally look on the workbooks with fresh eyes and insight. Perhaps they all needed a break. As he chewed on his thumbnail he was dimly aware that last night had been a full moon.

A tremor ran down his spine.

He hoped it had started to wane already even though it was unlikely. He didn't fancy walking all the way to the hospital on his own, especially with some sort of crime scene not too far away. Raking his damp hair out of his eyes, he picked up his stub of pencil and started making notes of the current lunar cycle along with added notes about some herbs his father had given him. There were a lot of ways that plantlife effected the body –whether by ingestion or inhalation –it was fascinating to read up on what they could do. He wondered if any of them would be useful in their upcoming studies.

Evening rolled around all too soon. Harry didn't mind so much. He'd had a whole day of studying, eating, washing his clothes, and making sure that everything was back in its place. It was easier than coming home in the early hours of the morning and tripping over his cases. With his notebooks tucked under his arm, he set out through the dying light towards the hospital.

 

 

~0~

 

 

The chatter of the young men died instantly as they edged into the hall. Despite the cloying stench of the gas-lamps, there was another smell lingering in the air. Harry recoiled at it, feeling himself shrink inwards as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Snape watched as they gingerly sat themselves down. On the platform behind him there was a sheet-covered table. There was no denying what lay underneath that table. Sure enough, when the Professor wordlessly ripped the sheet away, a gasp emitted throughout the room.

There, on the gurney, was a body.

Harry felt a chill descend upon the room, despite the heat still pressing around the building from outside. What on earth had happened since he'd left? Snape had said from day one that it'd be highly unlikely for them to use real-life specimens. Maybe the odd organ here and there, but an actual body? He was both curious and wished to remain ignorant all at the same time.

"As you can all see," Snape started in his drull voice. "We have a corpse in the room."

Silence.

"As some of you have clearly heard of the attack in the early hours of this morning I can confirm that yes; this is the same woman who was murdered."

A wave of murmurs started up but Harry couldn't hear them _. Murdered?_  Someone had been murdered not a stone's throw away from his front door? He felt ill. If he had been home last night would he have heard the screams? Would he have ignored it? Called out for her to shut up? Gone out to see if she was alright?

' _Don't be a fool!_ ' he snapped to himself. ' _There was nothing that could be done! You'd have mostly likely died too!_ '

He knew it was true. That didn't mean he had to like being so close to the danger zone, though.

"Before you ask any questions; they have already performed the autopsy. I have made copies for all of you to study before we begin this lesson. You'll have twenty minutes to read the notes. As of six o'clock this evening, this body was released into my care for the next forty-eight hours." He paused. "And yes, that does mean they'll be a lesson tomorrow night."

Only about two men sighed. The rest were far too intrigued by the prospect of a fresh corpse to work on, to care about another sleepless night.

Harry was on the fence.

He took one of the reports and narrowed his eyes at it. His stomach knotted as he read what had been found on this corpse. The victim was known as Mary Ann 'Polly' Nichols –a known prostitute in the area. He felt physically sick at the listed wounds inflicted upon the poor woman. How had someone managed to do all of that in the witching hours of London town? Surely someone had been there to see? Hadn't anyone heard her pleas for help?

' _You can't be emotional in medicine_ ,' he heard his Papa's voice whisper in his ear. ' _Everyone dies in the end, you just need to find the easiest way to help them live well. Getting emotional will only cloud your judgment and make it harder for you to progress._ '

Damn, his Papa had always known what to say.

"Time's up," Snape stated cooly. "Aprons and gloves on and at the table in two minutes."

Despite being hesitant, most of the men strode over to the pegs and started to prepare themselves with the thick rubber gloves and apron. Harry adjusted his glasses and drew in a deep breath before forcing his feet to walk to the table.

The woman was not that attractive. That was Harry's first thought as he looked down at her bloated facial features. The decomposition of the body had started almost a day prior, and the smell was enough to make anyone want to gag. Barely daring to breathe, Harry observed –from his position by her left elbow –that this Mary Ann was definitely at the low end of the barrel if someone wanted a quick fuck in the dark. Her nose was long and jutted out from her face like a sharks fin, and her lips were thin.

Snape lowered the secondary sheet from the body, exposing the sagging skin underneath. The breasts were limp and weighed off to the sides slightly. Her figure was rather plump as it broadened slightly to her hips. All her nails seemed chipped and off-colour.

"Since you can see the obvious wounds listed in the reports, I want all of you to look at the finer details. Tell me what you see."

Lips purses and reluctant heads drew closer.

"Feel free to move her if you so wish."

No one reached out for Mary Ann. No one wanted to be tainted by something so freshly touched by Death.

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and did a mental check from head to toe. There were the lacerations on her neck, the missing teeth, and the expanse of soft, doughy flesh that bloated in odd places. Then, at the abdomen, there were the deep slashes in her gut. It looked as though they went from right-to-left –towards the dominant hand. ' _So the killer is left handed?_ ' he mused, as he continued to peer, trying not to knock his head against his classmate's.

What else was there?

"Do you want to turn her over?" he found himself asking. Everyone stiffened around him. Looking up, he saw the look of horror from six other young men. Poor Neville looked like he was about to faint.

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Zabini hissed at him.

"Maybe something was missed? On her back?"

"Nothing gets missed in an autopsy, Potter."

"Well then maybe something is written that isn't in the official report."

"And why might that be?"

"Well …" he faltered for a moment. "If –If you found someone with occult symbols all over them –w-would you put that in the official report? The one that goes public in the papers?"

There was a moment of impressed silence. Of course there was something else! There had to be! They were studying supernatural biological anomalies –there was always something else, something hidden.

"So …?"

"Alright men," Zabini addressed them. "On the count of three, roll her onto her side." Hands latched onto Mary Ann's limbs –even Neville grabbed a hold of her ankles. "On my count; one … two … turn!"

Her limbs flopped awkwardly down her front. Harry and Thomas stared shocked at the state of the womans back. Even with the surgeon's cack-handed excuse for stitches with the thick black wire, there was no denying the shape of the wound. This one had not been done by the knife that had eventually killed her. No; before Mary Ann Nichols was cut down in her prime –she'd first been brutally attacked by something. Something with a mouth as large as Harry's forearm.

"What in God's name did that?" Thomas hissed.

"I … I don't know …" Harry felt his arms quake.

"What is it?" Zabini asked from the other side of the heavy, ashen corpse.

"She was bitten!" Thomas said, his voice breaking a little. "It looks as though she was mutilated by some sort of animal!"

"Lie her on her front!"

With some effort, they managed to get the corpse onto her front. Harry was too horrified by the way her back looked to pay much heed to her flabby, drooping buttocks and pock-marked thighs. There were no other wounds on her back. She must have been attacked from the front by whoever had wielded the knife.

The bite wound itself was around twelve inches long –give or take. It had been done at a frenzied angle, ripping skin before finding a good spot to latch on to. Her spinal chord had been severed by the impact. That much was clear by the way the bones jutted out from under the loose flaps of skin. Layers of soft, yellow fat glistened wetly in the lamplight. The smell was rancid. It was enough to choke a horse. Harry brushed a tear from his eye and stared at the wound. This once hadn't been touched by the surgeon's needles yet. That was a good sign. The flesh beneath the skin was all but destroyed. Bloodless veins hung like fine threads, dripping into the gaping hole. Harry good see pinkish-grey organs resting like a slippery pile of snakes.

He felt the urge to vomit.

"How on earth was she still walking after this?" Zabini asked in disgust as he prodded at the loose skin.

"Perhaps it all happened within the same hour?" Neville suggested.

"If something that big was stalking around London don't you think someone would have seen it?" Zabini snapped, scowling.

Harry watched the two of them bicker for a moment longer before leaning away from the corpse. Already, the air seemed more breathable. Blinking away the tears in his itchy eyes, he wiped his gloves down on a rag and went over to the chalkboard. He hastily drew a rough diagram of Mary Ann's corpse both from the front and the back. He used basic lines and arrows to show what wounds had been done and in what direction, as listed.

"Right so we've all come to the conclusion that the man who eventually killed her was left-handed, correct?"

A murmur of agreement.

"Right. So in regards to the wound on the back –what can we see from this?"

"Whatever the creature was came attacked instantly. There were no claw marks or anything. It was very precise," Zabini observed.

Harry made a note. "How many of you know animals that are genuinely that controlled or precise in their attacks? One bite for one victim? No staying to make sure they're dead? No claw marks at all? Or other bites?"

"The teeth marks look to be that of a canine," Thomas said. "However, an animal that big would have to be more of a wolf variety. Or a wild dog."

"We're almost in central London. Those dogs would be shot by the police if they were seen," Neville said.

Another murmur of agreement.

"So that only leaves one conclusion," Snape's voice made them all jump. In truth, they'd forgotten he was even in the room. "This woman was attacked by both a werewolf and her human assailant."

"But … in the same night?" Harry asked with a frown. "That seems so … unlikely."

A thin smirk played on Snape's lips. "Exactly."

Zabini raised an eyebrow. "So you're telling us that either this woman just so happened to be targeted by both man and beast, or that the werewolf attacked a man and the woman just got in the way?"

"Think Mr. Zabini," Snape intoned. "How many men do you know go walking around at that time of night wielding a weapon?"

"None?"

"Exactly."

The bell chimed one.

"Class dismissed," Snape drawled. "Make sure you're all present for tomorrow night. It'll start at 9PM so as not to disturb your schedules too much."

One by one, they slowly turned away from the drooping corpse to disperse of their rubber gloves and aprons. As he gathered his things and made way for the double doors, Harry couldn't help but wander what exactly he'd returned to in the streets of London town. Although as he made his way down the stone steps, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The moon was still a swollen fat thumbprint in the sky and he was anxious to get into bed and draw his curtains closed against it's raw light.

He also hoped that Mary Ann was not in attendance the following night.

Closing the door and locking it behind him, Harry drew in a quaking breath of relief. However, he still did a check of all the dark corners, under his bed and the cupboards just to make sure that he was definitely alone. He was. Somehow that feeling made him even more anxious. The thought of being alone whilst something stalked the streets outside was sickening.

"You're being paranoid," he said outloud as he started to change for bed. He was only talking out loud to fill up the silence that seemed to swell and grow around him. ' _Like Mary Ann's belly,_ ' whispered his brain.

He promptly threw up at the base of his hearth.

Wiping his mouth he trembled as he doubled over on his knees, pressing his forehead onto the rough floorboards. "Stop it," he hissed, tasting bile on his breath. "Stop making yourself ill. At least you didn't do it during the lesson."

That was a small blessing at least.

Wiping his face down Harry drew in deep breaths and tried to calm his erratic heart. Rubbing his chest he sat down on the thin bed, wincing as it creaked under his weight. It had been a long day. He'd been up since just after five the previous morning. "You just need to get some rest," he murmured as he wriggled down under the blankets. He'd need to save for a thicker one come winter. With his glasses off the room dissolved into a colourless blur. Only the moonlight shone faintly against his curtains, given a very faint silvery box to stare at.

' _Perhaps I'll go and see Draco tomorrow. I wish I'd gotten to see him today.'_  He missed that the blonde man hadn't met him at the station, but he'd mentioned that he would most likely be busy. Harry hadn't questioned him. There was no need. He would have just appreciated the company, to have someone to talk to about his few days away. Oh well, it would keep till the morning.

Soon enough, much to his relief, he drifted off to sleep.

In the distance, something howled.


	7. 1st September 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Saturday 1st September 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

Harry fiddled with his collar as he stared at the door. It was so immaculate and shiny, he felt like he was spending a fortune just being there. The silver knocked gleamed in the sunshine. Footsteps drew close from the other side. The door swung inwards, revealing Draco's butler.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Master Malfoy is expecting you up in his chambers."

Harry blinked, stunned.

Stepping through into the tiled hallway, he straightened his shoulders and nodded his thanks to the butler, before moving up the stairs. His shoes clicked on the floor as he came to Draco's bedroom door. Knocking, he waited in the hallway.

" _Come in!"_ called a voice.

Harry entered the room, the sunlight catching him off-guard as he took in the flush expanse of the room. It seemed to stretch on forever, with gilt windows and thick, plush carpets and blankets. As he edged further into the room, he caught sight of Draco sat in a tall chair, his blanketed legs stretched out on a footstool, with the newspaper in his hands.

"Good morning, Harry," he smiled, setting the paper to one side.

Harry took a seat in the vacant chair offered to him. "Good morning, Draco." In the sunlight he blanched at how pale the blonde man looked; his skin was ashen, his eyes heavily circled and his hair lie flat and lifeless against his skull. "I'm sorry to say this but –you look awful."

"Your concern it touching," the blonde said flatly. "Tea?"

"Please."

Despite Draco's pride, neither of them could ignore the way the teapot lid rattled as he struggled to hold it steady. As the brown liquid sloshed into the cup, Harry's hands automatically caught hold of it. Unfortunately, Draco's clammy hands were caught between his own and the china pot.

Silver eyes bore into his own. They were a dull grey, flat like a cobblestone and smooth.

"Thank you," Draco murmured, reliquinshing the teapot to his companion.

Harry carefully poured two cups of tea –milk and two sugars for Draco –and handed a cup to the blonde. His hand seemed to tremble as he accepted the beverage but Harry didn't want to pry.

"So how was the lecture last night?" Draco asked, sipping at his tea. He sank deeper into his thick dressing gown. Harry was getting hot and sweaty just looking at the layers enveloping the older man.

"It was … intense," he exhaled. He hadn't slept too well the previous night. Thought he'd gotten to sleep earlier than usual after a lecture, he was plagued by the insight he'd gotten to 'Polly's' body –and that savage bite mark on her back. He shuddered, chasing the cold away with a gulp of hot tea.

"What did he have you do?"

"That's just it," Harry hedged rubbing at the back of his neck. "I don't know if it's completely legal. It's definitely not public knowledge so … um … you can keep it a secret, can't you?"

Draco paused, his bottom lip pressed to the brim of his teacup. Looking over at the bespectacled your man before him, he could practically smell the anxiety rolling off of him in waves. "Of course, Harry. I hope you're not partaking in anything that would herald you as a pariah." He arched a fine eyebrow at his companion. "That'd be unfortunate."

"It –it would?"

"Of course. As a manner of speaking, I've gotten quite fond of you, Harry. I'd hate for my uncle to jeopardise our friendship purely because of his eccentricities."

Harry gave a twitch of a smile.

"So, what exactly is it that my uncle had you do?"

"Well –did you hear about the woman found murdered in Whitechapel?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Yes," he said slowly.

Harry lowered his gaze and thumbed the rim of his cup. The China was smooth against his skin. "Well … Snape somehow got permission for us to investigate her corpse. There were some … peculiarities."

"What sort of peculiarities?"

"Other than the sheer brutality of the murder …" He stopped again. The words just seemed to get lodged in his throat. "She … S-she had a huge section of her back missing –thanks to a grotesque animal attack."

Blonde eyebrows rose. "An animal? Ripping off a woman's entire back?"

Harry nodded. "In one bite, yes."

The silence hung in the air like a fog, seeping into every fibre of fabric within the chamber. Draco's eyes were downcast as he tapped a rhythm on the arm of his chair. Harry was on edge. Should he have not told his friend? Perhaps Draco already knew and was judging him? Perhaps he had no idea and was going to have an intense conversation with his uncle?

"What are your thoughts on the matter?" the blonde man eventually asked.

Harry blinked and sat back in the chair. Draco was … intrigued? "Er … The class as a whole seemed to come to the conclusion that this was a larger than life beast. Something that can come and go and outrun most men."

"Why do you say that?"

"We're in the middle of London," the young brunette stated. "There's no way a hound of that size and stature could have snuck around the streets, even in the dead of night, and not been seen by anyone."

Draco nodded in agreement. "Fair point. So –from this –what can you tell me?"

"That … the only person to see this beast, is dead."

"Anything else?"

"The woman was killed … because she was attacked?"

"Well now you're assuming that this attacker actually knew of the wolf," Draco countered, "Perhaps he was just a monster who happened to get –what was the term? –sloppy seconds?"

Harry pressed his lips together. "That's an awfully big coincidence, though, if we're entertaining that idea."

"Perhaps. However, the only other conclusion is that this poor woman was mauled by a –a -?"

"Werewolf."

Draco narrowed his eyes, but inclined his head regardless. "Exactly. As much as I am close to my uncle, even I have to draw the line at some of his superstitious elements."

Harry clenched and unclenched his fist. "I … What if there's some truth to any of this?"

Draco let out a soft sigh. "I thought you wanted to be a doctor, Harry."

"I do! Of course I do!"

"Then why are you giving this so much thought?" Draco asked, curiously.

Harry turned to stare out of the window. It was a bright day with a light breeze. The colours were so vibrant under the sunlight. Everything within the room suddenly seemed to dull in comparison. Draco was right; why was he wasting his precious time worrying about some form of mythical beast? For all he knew, Snape had created that ghastly bite just as a way to ignite their imaginations? Thinking about it now, Harry had to admit hat it sounded too convenient. They were studying supernatural beings and all of a sudden, one turns up on their doorstep? Ready for dissection? Their professor just barely managed to secure the rights to the body? That all seemed too neatly cut.

Shaking his head, he felt the back of his neck heat up. "I … I suppose you could be right."

"I'm sorry Harry," Draco frowned softly. "I didn't meant to offend you. I've known my uncle for years. I know what he's like. These nighttime lectures won't amount to anything useful in your future career as a physician."

"You seem to have a rather hostile view towards your uncle despite readily teaching one of his lectures," Harry observed rather coldly. He hadn't meant to change his attitude so quickly, but he had paid a handsome sum of money to study with Snape and –nephew or not –he didn't like it when anyone insulted his professor and, by extension, himself.

"My views on my uncle have nothing to do with this," Draco chided. "I just don't want to see a dear friend lead down the wrong path to a dead end."

"How're you so sure it will?"

Draco shook his head, rubbed his temples and sighed. "Let's not talk about this anymore. I'm getting a migraine."

"Do you want me to get your butler?"

"No, no," Draco waved him back down into the armchair. "I'll be fine I just –don't wish to discuss my uncle anymore."

Harry wanted to argue that Draco was the one who had been curious, however seeing how the blonde man's head lulled heavily into his hand and the purple hue of his fingernails, he felt a surge of panic bolt through him. "Try not to move," he said. "You're not well, Draco. Let me get a bath ready for you?" Draco have a sigh but eventually nodded. "Good. Oh –er –what's your butler's name?"

"Mr. Jenson."

"Thanks." Harry hurried over to the door and stepped out into the long hallway. "MR. JENSON? MR. JENSON?"

It took a few moments, although it felt like a lifetime to Harry, before the clicking of shoes on the polished wood floors could be heard. The middle-aged butler appeared, his cheeks pink with the heat. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Mr. Malfoy requires a hot bath and a well lit fire. He's coming down with a fever."

"I shall arranged a bath right away, sir. I'll notify his uncle at once!"

"Oh, there's no need for that!" Harry gushed, feeling awkward. The butler frowned at him. "I'm studying medicine with his uncle. It is most likely just the heat; his body is out of sync with the heat so we need to get him warm again." Still the butler frowned, clearly not entirely convinced. "Please?" Harry urged. "I assure you, I know what I'm doing."

"Very well," Jenson conceded. "However, if any ill befalls the young master, the consequences shall fall upon your head, is that understood?"

"Yes, of course."

 

 

~0~

 

 

Steam rolled over the brim of the large copper bath. It was hot inside and out, as the maids had placed it on the hearthrug before the large fireplace. Fire crackled in the grate. They had closed the curtains upon Draco's insistence. The sunlight seemed to hurt his eyes. Harry couldn't help but feel a prickling in his skin as he'd rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt.

Draco was lying in the bathtub, floating as though he were suspended in the hot water. The faint film of bubbles and soap made the water look like frothy milk. It worried Harry; Draco was already extremely pale, however now that his skin was against something so white, he just looked ashen. As though all the colour and freshness had been leeched from his skin.

His skin was still clammy to the touch and his lips and tongue were pale.

Harry tried not to let his technical mind interfere with making his friend well again. He took his time rubbing soap and oils into Draco's skin, letting him soak in the scented water, before scrubbing his down with a sponge. His eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing, like two grey glass windows.

It got to the point that Harry just assumed the blonde man slept with his eyes open.

"Harry?"

He flinched, stopping in his motion of washing soap suds of Draco's arm. "Y-yes?"

"Tell me about your home."

"My home?" Harry frowned. "What're you talking about? You've seen where I live."

Draco rocked his head back and forth. No. That's not what he wanted. Harry frowned as the firelight cast soft shadows over his companion's haggard features. His blonde hair hung in damp tendrils over his skull and his cheeks looked gaunt. His Adams apple almost burst out of his throat, he looked so thin. "N-no …" Draco rasped. "Where you come from … your parents?"

Harry breathed a laugh. "You don't want to hear about any of that."

"Please?" he rasped.

"Oh … Okay." Harry cleared his throat. "Well my parents were childhood sweethearts. They began courting as soon as they were able. My mama was a maid and my papa was training to be a doctor."

"Mmm …"

"My papa looks like I do. They say I have my mama's eyes though."

"… Lovely eyes."

Harry felt his cheeks flare. He kept on scrubbing. "We live in a small cottage with a thatched roof and well down the bottom of the garden. Mama grows herbs and vegetables and takes care of some of the elderly. She doesn't make a lot of money, but she always make sure as many people are fed well. Papa is different; he's eccentric –that's what mama says. He likes finding new cures and easier ways to perform surgeries. They're not as big as the accidents you get in the city. More just sprains and breaks, but every one in a while, someone needs an amputation or something growing off them in the wrong place –He likes his work."

"That's good." Draco's head drooped around to rest against Harry's propped up elbow. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before pressing his cool cheek harder against the younger man's skin.

"I think that's enough smelling salts for you," Harry murmured, standing up and heading over to the fire. Swiping a towel up from the copper grate places in front of it, he went back to the tub and beckoned for Draco to sit up. "Come on, let's get you dried off and into bed."

Thankfully, Draco didn't protest as he let Harry dry him off and leave him standing in front of the fire whilst he fetched some nightclothes. Once dressed, Harry bundled his friend up in an armchair pulled over by the fire and fed him soup before leading the blonde man over to the large mahogany bed when his eyelids began to droop.

"Goodnight Draco," Harry murmured into the dimly lit room as he closed the chamber door behind him and left.

The London streets were bright with lamplight, moonlight and the sickly glow that poured onto the pavements from the open doors of the taverns. The aroma of cheap beer and roast meat hung, like dripping clouds in the air, as Harry bowed his head and ghosted long the streets through Whitechapel. Nothing seemed to lurk in the shadows –nothing other than the usual ruffians, homeless tramps or drunk prostitutes.

The air was warm, yet whenever he passed by the cramped houses or under a bridge, he felt a tremor run down his spine. It was as though all those glowing eyes in the gloom were turning in his direction and watching him. He knew he was being ridiculous. There was no denying it. After his conversation with Draco, all he needed to do was keep moving quickly and get home.

' _Maybe Draco was right about all this?_ ' he thought, as he loosened his collar a little more.  _'All of Snape's lessons are making me paranoid_.'

The further he walked, the quieter the city seemed to grow. Even the lapping of the Thames was left far behind him. The gentle murmurs of generic nightlife faded away to a whisper and then –silence.

It had always unnerved him, how in the early morning hours right after his lectures that the entire city seemed to die. The silence was overwhelming. Drawing in deep breaths, Harry found himself straining his ears for any click of shoes on pavement, or the growl of a beggar's gut. Even the rustling of his own trousers was enough to make the hairs on his arms stand up on end.

"Nearly home," he murmured to himself.

The clouds drifted lazily in the breeze, letting more silvery light dribble down onto the pavements. Chimney smoke seemed to cease at nighttime, letting some of the stars peak down.

"A few more streets … then I'll be fine."

 

  
~0~

_The moonlight poured down like a heatless sun, melting the skin off his bones, manipulating his flesh and burrowing through the very marrow of his bones._

_Every pore seemed to stretch, as though thin worms were wriggling out into the cool, evening air. Each tendril exploded into thick, dark hair that covered every inch –even the fingertips._

_Bones cracked –like lightning –through the silence._

_Flesh and muscle stretched and reformed to mould over the skeletal figure. Every inch of the flesh burned, seared and pulsed as new tissue created a cobweb over the veins._

_So many new scents; rotting meat, salt water and piss._

_Something else –something alive!_

_Fresh, hot, blood –rushing, pumping, bubbling in veins that scurried quickly over warm cobblestones._

_Thick, heavy feet scrambling over the pavements. Clacking of claws, panting of breath, thick heavy coat shimmering in the dim light. Lamplight flashing on the fangs, in the eyes, and fur rippling with anticipation._

_It was hot rage –burning, unpredictable –like fire!_

_A mad frenzy making the brain fizz and froth and bubble down the back of the throat._

_There!_

_In the shadow thrown by a narrow building. There was the flesh –the mound of hot blood fuelled by fear! He could smell it! Taste it on the air! Trailing down from the rooftops, using the night as a cloak, shying away whenever eyes gleamed through the gloom._

_Quivering hunger and feverish desire mingled in the air as a pair of bespectacled eyes narrowed in the darkness._

_Labored breathing –sweat –cinnamon stink rolling through the still air. Oh, how his mouth watered!_

_Towering tall through into the pale light. A deep, guttural growl –new jaw unhinging, dripping._

_The man let out a yell!_

_So loud to the new ears! Why was it so loud? Growling louder drowned out the terror piercing through his brain but not enough. No, it wasn't enough!_

_A blur of black and silver. A cut through the night. Burning –hot, red blood running into the gutter. His? No, of course not._

_Manic laughter filling his ears –"BEGONE FANGED DAEMON!" –what was this sorcery? Backing up past brickwork –nails scraping on brick and growls failing to drown out the Warlocks words._

_Daemon? Daemon? Daemon? NO!_

_Running –so much running! Heart drumming painfully, muscles screaming, brain burning! Safety –HELP! Running –never stopping –hardly breathing –NO!_

_THERE! HOME? NO?!_

_Panic! So much panic! Blood –pain –agony –retracting!_

_Sunrise …_


	8. 10th September 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Monday 10th September 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

Another emergency lecture had been called.

It was almost no surprise when they found Snape waiting in the hospital theatre with a covered body on a mortuary slab. The stink of formaldehyde hung heavily in the air. It was cloying to the lungs and burned steadily through the senses. That evening they didn't even bother sitting down with their notebooks. They merely placed their belongings on their seat and made their way to the apron booth.

It had already been a long day. After the previous week, Harry was still getting used to going out after dark. It was nerve-wracking whenever the sun sank below the horizon. Darkness was his enemy now, but there was nothing he could do to hide from it. His allowance didn't amount to much and he was already down to his last candle stub. He'd had to go to the hospital for two days to get his wounds treated. Snape had come in to see him, even treated the wound and had stated that it would most definitely scar.

_Great.  
_

He still had to wear bandages –the wound was going to take a while before the tissue full healed over the grisly rip. It made his gut quake whenever he had to change his dressing. Having to look at where his flesh was literally torn in half –it was vile! He had asked Snape how his nephew was, considering the condition he'd left the blonde man in just two days prior. Snape had given him an unreadable look and simply stated that Draco would need a few extra days rest, but whatever illness he'd gotten was not serious at all.

That was a minor relief; at least he wasn't worrying whilst he was cooped up.

Now that he was out of the hospital, he was anxious to try and get back into his normal routine. It didn't help him too much that he got inhumanly anxious whenever night fell. Most evenings he would walk most of the way home. However it was that last part –that final leg of the journey –that was the hardest part.

His friends had been good to him though; Ronald took a little extra time out of his way to make sure Harry got as close to his lodgings as possible. It was difficult, however, on the Witching Hour lectures. At the very least, in the last week since the first brutal murder, Harry had managed to have more time to himself, to gather his thoughts and even pay more attention to his own friends' needs. More specifically; meeting the new woman in Ronald's life.

Her name was Hermione; she was petite, book-smart and had a father very high-up on the medical board. If anything it seemed to add more pressure to Ronald for being squeamish around blood. Although –Harry thought –the last few lectures he hadn't shied away as he'd used to do. Perhaps she was an encouraging influence on him? She was a determined one, that much could be said for her. She was pretty too; she seemed like she had the entire package. Harry was genuinely pleased for his friend. If their courtship progressed as well as they'd imagined it would, then there were sure to be some wedding bells by the end of the year.

Unfortunately, it also drew attention to how lonely he was. He didn't have anyone to spend his evenings with. He only had Draco –and the man was often busy. They met up on  _his_  timetable. Not that Harry  _had_  a timetable –but it would have been nice to have some control.

None of it had really helped his mental state as another body was found near his lodgings.

Every time he walked by Whitechapel the shredded skin on his arm seemed to itch.

Glancing over at the covered woman, Harry felt cold dread drip down his spine. What was going on? Why were there so many women being attacked? Why was it only women? Harry seemed to be the only one who'd managed to escape the beast –but why? Was it simply attracted to the female sex? He really tried not to think about that night. He'd had a policeman visit him in the hospital and had to go down to the station to make an official statement. They'd asked him all sorts of questions that he couldn't really answer.

_What attacked you that night?_

_Why were you walking around so late?_

_Who was the man who helped save you?_

_Had you been drinking or inhaling opium?_

Well –that one had been an obvious 'no' but that still didn't make the events of that night any clearer. His glasses had been knocked off when he'd been shoved down onto the pavement. He didn't know what exactly had attacked him –but he'd heard it. That growl –it felt so savage and bloodthirsty. It made bile rush up his throat whenever he thought of it.

As for the man who'd helped save him? He honestly had no idea. He had a low, smooth voice –entirely in control of himself, even in peril. He'd worn gloves and a cloak. His hat had been low but Harry had caught sight of a thin, black moustache and thin lips.

That was all he'd been able to offer the police. He felt useless, but had been allowed to leave soon after.

It didn't help that, once back in the lecture hall, everyone else treatment him with a little more caution and concern. Harry didn't like being invalidated but his arm still quaked whenever he tried to use it for something practical. Snape had assured the class that –other than the cut in his forearm –he'd sustained no other injuries. In other words, he hadn't been bitten.

Annie Chapman's corpse was almost identical to Mary Ann's; the same right-to-left slashes across the throat and abdomen, her features beaten and swollen from gas bloating inside her corpse. Her teeth were very fine in comparison to most prostitutes, and –as with Mary Ann –she bore no other wounds.

Until they turned her over.

The bite mark was as savage as the first. Although there was something else stuck in one of her shoulder-blades.

"What the heck is that?" Zabini asked as he held a lamp close to the gaping wound. The smell of wet, old meat turned their stomachs but they continued to stare into the corpse regardless.

Harry peered closer too, not that he was able to contribute much to the inspection. Whatever was stuck through the bone, was thick, shiny with blood and fat, and about as long as his ring finger. He watched as Zabini used a pair of pliers to wriggle the thing out and hold it up in the light for everyone to see. Harry paled. "Is –is that a tooth?" he grimaced.

"Correct, Mr. Potter," Snape intoned. "Here, gentlemen, we have a genuine werewolf tooth. Look at how long it is and imagine about thirty of those ripping your skin from your bones."

Harry suppressed the urge to vomit.

"As for the corpse," Snape continued. "What can you tell me about this one?"

"The wound isn't fresh," Neville squeaked. One would think he was still going through puberty. "It's been open and festering for a few days –maybe even a week."

"So when can we assume the wound was inflicted?"

"Possibly around the same time as the first corpse," Zabini said.

"So … she somehow managed to survive a week before getting killed by this psychopath?" Harry asked. "How is that even possible?"

"Well by the looks of things, despite a vast amount of blood loss, none of her major organs were damaged, unlike the first. Once bound, I'm sure she could have struggled along for a time."

"So …" Harry frowned. "This was … another 'mercy' killing?"

"That's absurd!" Zabini sneered, although he didn't quite believe his own words.

Harry cast a look around at his other classmates. They were all wondering the same thing. He felt his skin itch under the bandage. Thankfully, Thomas spoke up before his mouth took control.

"Sir?"

"What?"

"I … uh … We were wondering what is the purpose of looking at these corpses?"

"To educate you."

"I think what he means," Neville stuttered. "Was … well … why are we the only ones studying them? Shouldn't we tell the police of our findings?"

Harry bristled at this and wanted nothing more than to disappear at the back of the theatre. He'd had enough of police for the time being. They'd started to double the curfew patrols around Whitechapel but he highly doubted that anything would come of them.

"You are here to study and understand that these beasts are unable to be killed by any normal means. Otherwise that 'psychopath' as you called him, would have killed the animal already." Snape narrowed his eyes at the seven of them. "I hope you paid attention to  _that_ , at least."

"What exactly are we meant to have missed?" Zabini seethed.

"That this vigilante clearly has no idea what he's doing. At least, not truly, for he has no managed to kill the werewolf."

"He might have maimed it?" Neville suggested.

"Only if his blade was made of silver," Snape stated in a bored manner. Dead bodies really had no effect on him.

Harry wondered if he'd ever become desensitised like that.

"Now, silver is a werewolf's enemy, much like garlic is to the vampire," his voice droned out throughout the cavernous theatre room. "So if you only cut a werewolf with a silver blade, what do you think happens when the creature turns back to his human form?"

"He'd be maimed as a human, wouldn't he?" Thomas asked.

"Depending on the depth of the cut in its werewolf form, it'd either be a cut or a very dark bruise. It'd mostly be in the regions of the body that are covered by clothes. Anything on the face would –no doubt –be bandaged or concealed from the public eye."

Something about that last comment stuck in Harry's mind just as the bell chimed in the courtyard.

The lesson was over.

Gathering all his notebooks and satchel, Harry wrapped himself up in his cloak one-handed, and made his way up the stairs. They seemed to go on forever. His head was swimming as he neared the entrance, the feeling of fresh air making him shudder and shy away from the wide, dark open spaces beyond. He'd just gotten out of the courtyard when a hand came down on his shoulder.

He let out a yell as he whipped around.

"It's okay, you don't need to make so much noise," Draco admonished, as he gripped Harry's good shoulder.

Harry jerked out of the older man's grip, wincing as his injured arm strained against his body. His heart was a panicked blur in his ears and it turned his stomach. He leaned back against the gate, uring his breathing to get under control. His head was a mess as he ran a hand through his hair and drew in deep breaths. "Draco what are you doing here?" he rasped out, the balmy air calming to the back of his throat.

The tall man furrowed his brow. "Surely you've heard?" he said. "Of course you have. You've probably had the body in that hospital."

Harry glowered up at the man but he turned his head the other way. "Yes. Another woman was attacked."

"No doubt my uncle believes it to be linked to the last one?"

"Yes. So do the local police."

Draco snorted in derision under his breath. "I meant in regards to what killed her."

"A werewolf?"

"You don't agree with him?" Draco asked, frowning down at the younger man.

Harry felt his shoulders sag. "I … I don't really know," he admitted. "After what happened last week, I just –I really just want to go to sleep and never wake up."

A dark shadow passed over Draco's face. "Don't talk like that," he hissed. "You have no idea what it means to talk like that."

Harry continued to glare, but didn't say anything. He simply pushed himself off of the gates and made his feet move over the pavements towards Whitechapel. Draco straightened his shoulders and made his way after Harry at a slower that usual pace. His cane clicked against the stonework underfoot. They walked side-by-side in silence for a while, as clouds rolled over the sky overhead.

The darkness felt oppressive, cold and foreboding as they made their way through the narrow streets. Harry found that he wanted to move closer towards his companion, feel the heat from his body, in order to feel secure. The bone in his arm ached as he bowed his head and tried not to sweat. He was in need of a hot fire, some tea and his bed. He didn't want to be in London anymore. He didn't want to be alone anymore.

He wasn't safe!

Nowhere was safe!

It wasn't just the prostitutes –it was anyone and everyone who stalked through the street at the witching hour of the night.

"So where have you been?" he found himself asking. All he wanted to do was drown out the aching silence that burning through his ears and resided within his skull.

"I've just been a little ill," Draco stated. "I appreciate you taking care of me as you did. My ailment didn't ease up until a few days ago and so that's why I've not been able to see you for most of the last week."

Harry gave an exasperated sigh. "I took care of you because you're my friend, Draco."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to offer the same to you last week," Draco said, coming to a halt on the corner of Hanbury street. The entire corner was roped off since early Saturday morning. Harry was sure he could see the shadow of where Annie Chapman's corpse had been, her vagina-less body sprawled out for the world to see.

He turned his head away, not wanting to see it.

"It's fine," Harry murmured. "I lived."

Draco cupped the brunette man's face in his hands and tilted it upwards. "You're traumatised."

Harry wanted to jerk his head out of the hot, pale hands. At the same time, if felt comforting to have human contact that wasn't invasive, like those doctor's hands. "I'll manage, Draco," he replied tightly. He averted his eyes, wanted to scurry back to his lodgings as quickly as possible.

"That's not an answer, Harry."

"What do you want me to say?"

Silence.

"Let's get you home."

They continued to walk in silence. Around the next bend, Harry caught sight of his lodgings. "You didn't need to walk me home," he said, somewhat awkwardly as they stood in the shadow of the building.

"I'm not having you walk around in the dead of night, right next to the crime scene, alone."

Harry shuddered, desperately needing to change his dressings. "Well … thank you." He fumbled awkwardly with trying to open his door and balancing his satchel of notebooks. The strain on his arm was painful. A notebook slipped out of his arm and slapped down on the alleyway floor. "Shit!" he cursed.

Draco bent down and picked the book up. It seemed wrong for someone so immaculately dressed to stoop down in the dirt of the city. Harry hastily accepted the book back. "Let me help you to your room," Draco offered, extending his hand as for the satchel. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was promptly silence by a finger on his lips. "Don't argue with me, Potter. Just turn around and get upstairs. It's too late to argue on your landlords doorstep."

Harry clamped his mouth shut before turning around and making his way up the stairs. Draco followed.

The stairs creaked underfoot. The woodwork seemed rougher underhand, as did the stink of the mould and piss that seemed to exude from most of the other rooms. In the top floor there was the distant sound of dirty, drunken slurs and moans as a bed creaked under the weight of two fat sweating bodies. It made Harry feel hot and self-conscious. Draco was a large, imposing shadow in the darkness. His very presence swelled within the corridor, as Harry groped for the key to his room.

The key turned in the lock.

The door swung open.

Within twenty minutes a fire was burning in the grate, and both of their cloaks were hung on the rickety stand behind the door. The curtains were closed against the waning moon and Draco was seated in the sagging armchair whilst Harry was perched awkwardly on the small wooden stool. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but Draco was tending to the wounds he'd sustained on his arm from the week prior.

"You don't need to –AH! –do this," Harry hissed through his teeth as Draco cleaned the wound with hot, salt water. "That stings!"

"Stinging is good," Draco murmured quietly. Harry watched as the blonde man worked meticulously, his arm cradled in the finely clothed lap. It felt wrong and comfortable all at the same time. "It means it's healing well."

Harry didn't have the heart to argue.

"I know you don't want to talk about it now," Draco hedged, still not making eye contact. "However, I think it'd be good for you to talk to someone about what happened that night."

Harry shook his head. All his muscles were suddenly tense again. He could feel knots tightening in his back at the very thought. "I don't think I need to. It was a bad experience, but I survived it. I just need to take things one day at a time."

"London is becoming a danger zone," he insisted. "I … I worry that every time I open the newspaper I'm going to see your name printed up on the front page –as another victim."

Harry felt a pang in his heart. "Draco, this killer only seems to be going after women."

"For now."

"So,  _for now_ , can't we just assume that I'm not in any danger?"

Draco let out a growling sigh, before looking up at the young man. Harry flinched back at the intensity of that glare; there were so many dark, tormented moments in those eyes that they rooted him to the spot. He felt the air escape his lungs as he watched Draco's pale pink lips move around words that hung silently in the air between them.

"I'm sorry –what did you say?"

Grey eyes narrowed.#

"I said that no; we can't take ridiculous assumptions in regards to your safety. One day I am going to read your name in the obituaries and I'd rather not have that day come any time within the next few years." Long, pale fingers gripped Harry's arm tightly. He let out a strangled cry as the neat nails dug into the open wound. Beads of blood bloomed to the surface, staining Draco's fingertips as he leered over him, his breathing harsh against Harry's cheeks. "Like it or not, you have people who care about your well-being. Stop being so selfish and let me help you."

"I have!" Harry whimpered weakly. He couldn't move out of the grip. It was like an iron weight had clamped down on his arm. "You've helped me already, Draco, what more can I let you do?"

"I just want you to accept my help when I offer it." The words appeared calm and even reasonable, however the grip on his arm was still hard and strong. "I loathe the idea of you walking around in the darkness."

Harry squirmed even more, the raw flesh burning on his arm. "Why do you even care so much?" he snapped.

"BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT  _YOU_!"

Harry didn't have a chance to breathe before his head was yanked forward and a savage pair of lips ensnared his in a violently hungry kiss. He tried to push away at first, but Draco seemed to possess a strength that his lithe frame belied. He was helpless as he was imprisoned within those arms on that stool, the firelight and the kiss burning him both inside and out. Tears of pain clouded his eyes as he let Draco attack his mouth. It wasn't unpleasant –just brutal!

He gingerly responded just to see if it would make Draco stop … but it didn't.

It just made Harry want more.


	9. 11th August 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Tuesday 11th September 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

Harry jerked awake, breathing heavily

He cast blurry eyes around his room and winced at how hard his heart pounded against his ribs. Sunlight poured in through his window –hadn't he closed the curtains last night? Grinding the heel of his hand against his eyes, he drew his knees up and tried to shrink down into the mattress, shying away from the brightness. Even sighing seemed to make his brain fizz inside his skull. What time was it?

His pocket watch read 11:12am.

How and why had he slept so late?

His throat felt sore and his arm felt like a dead weight as he cradled it in his lap. A faint memory lingered on the periphery of his mind, but he didn't have the energy to entertain it. Not now. It had been a long week and all he needed to do was take it easy. Maybe spend the day in a library, soaking up the works of doctor's before him and having to work in forced silence –it'd be more peaceful than his lodgings at least.

His lips still seemed to tingle at a memory he wasn't sure was real. The pain in his arm, however, was.

He took his time getting himself washed and dressed for the day, taking extra care to soak and wrap his arm in fresh bandages. It didn't seem to be healing too well. Perhaps he should write to his Papa and see if he had any herbal remedies that might help?

The streets were easier to navigate in the daylight. They helped to reset his thinking and spend the next ten or so hours convincing himself that he was being an idiot before the sun eventually set. He kept his head down and his arms pressed at his sides. His feet seemed to weigh too much as he walked up the steps and disappeared between the doors of the library. Hunched over a small wooden desk in the corner, Harry reread the letter he'd penned to his Papa.

 

_'Papa,_

_I'm sorry to write to you so suddenly but I need your advice. I was attacked last week by some form of beast that's been lurking around London. I'm fine, except for a rather aggressive claw mark on my arm. It measures approximately 7 inches long down my forearm. The tear is around 1 inch wide. It appeared deeper than on first inspection. I was wondering if there were any remedies you'd know of to counteract the itching of the wound? It doesn't seem to be healing too well._

_Your son,_

_Harry._

_P.S. Tell mama not to worry. I truly am alright. The beast may have been lycanthropic –if that makes any difference.'_

 

It was a crudely worded letter, short and abrupt unlike his usual style. However, he knew his papa. He responded well to short, matter-of-fact requests. Hopefully any replies would arrive within the week. Setting the letter aside, he pulled a small leather bound book in front of him. It listed various healing uses of certain wildplants. He tried making notes but nothing seemed to signal what he wanted. He was determined to find a way to treat werewolf wounds –but how? Surely this would excel him as a top-level student?

He stayed in the library until the bell chimed 6PM. There was no way around it; he would have to drag himself back home with very little accomplishment. Even his notes wouldn't help him too much in finding a cure or a wildplant that would lessen the effects of a werewolf's bite. Perhaps it would calm down when a new moon appeared in the sky?

He didn't know. The very idea made his wound itch.

Hugging his arms around his waist, he bowed his head to the pavement and made his way home. He just wanted to clear his mind and focus on what else he could offer to his own personal dilemma. He had another check-up with the local doctor in the next couple of days. He hoped the swollen red skin would ease up a little; nothing was more disconcerting than a doctor having to look away from an injury. He was just about to cross the street when a loud yell ripped through the fog in his mind and the wind was knocked out of him. Without knowing how, he'd ended up on the pavement, his palms grazed and a pain in his side. There was a ringing in his ears and his lower back felt like it had been set on fire.

What the hell had just happened?

A hand touched his elbow, attempting to drag him to his feet.

_"Is he alright?"_

"He just stepped off the road!"

"That poor boy!"

Harry tried to sort through the yells as a familiar scent hit his nose. Peering up through his –thankfully still intact –glasses, he caught sight of a familiar sharp face and bright blonde hair. "There's nothing to see here, ladies and gentlemen!" Draco called out, his voice a sharp stab through Harry's dull senses. "He's just taken a nasty turn!"

Nasty turn? Had he? What was going on? Before he could get himself together Draco had a firm grip of his arm and was guiding him away from the road. The pavement rushed by under his feet as he let the taller man take him along towards a familiar street. Harry was dimly aware of being let into Draco's front door, up the polished staircase and into the bedchamber. None of it truly registered until a fair amount of time later when the aroma of hot tea and lemon was hovering under his nose.

"Here drink this."

Harry blinked himself to reality with a jolt. "Er … thank you … What am I -?"

"Shh, we can take later. For now you need to drink."

Harry took a sip and shivered. They sat in silence the dimness of dusk settling into the room. The fireplace and lights were already on. There was a dull thrumming in his forehead and the tea did little to chase it away.

"What happened?" he asked again. He didn't know how much time had passed but the sky was now completely dark outside.

"You were so distracted," Draco stated. "You walked out into the middle of the road without looking where you were going. You were almost run over."

Harry let the words sink in. Harry let the words sink in. He was almost knocked over? Why hadn't he heard the yells or the horns? Why hadn't he heard the horse's hooves? He let out a sigh and drank some more of the tea. It was sweet, hot and sugary. Not his preferred drink but it was chasing his headache away.

"Why were you there?" he rasped.

"I was walking along to run some errands and was just in time to rescue you."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Where … um … Where's my satchel?"

"Your satchel?" Draco frowned.

"My bag it has notes and journals and research in it." His eyes went wide. "Oh God! Don't tell me I've lost it! Professor Snape will kill me!"

"Oh what? This thing?" Draco held up a rough leather bag. It looked as though it had seen better days and the way Draco was touching it, you'd think the leather was poisoned with something that could cause the skin to blister.

"YES!" Harry saw black stars dot his vision. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost this."

"It's just a bag, Harry."

"I guess …" The tone of the younger mans voice belied the fact that there was more history to that bag than picking it up at a market stall. "Nothing got lost out of it, did it?"

"Not as far as I'm aware," Draco said, taking a sip from his own teacup.

"That's good at least."

"So what were you doing up that side of the river when you didn't have a lecture this evening?" Draco asked.

"I was doing some extra studying," Harry shrugged. He set his satchel down the side of his armchair and drew in a deep, pained sigh. Another sip of tea seemed to curb the pain. The itch in his arm was receding a little too –maybe he was imagining it, he couldn't be sure. "This tea is really good," he hummed, sinking lower into the chair.

A slow smile curled Draco's lips. "I'm glad you like it. It's a home-blend. I can get some made for you, if you like?"

Harry nodded that he'd like that. His eyelids were drooping. Everything felt so cosy around him in that moment. The air was warm and soothing, the tea was calming like a salve on every internal scar both physical and mental –soon he was asleep.

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

_Sunlight burning –hot smells! World waking up –dayling! Colours! Brightness! Everything hurt the eyes._

_Smells grew stronger –pungent, putrid, vile! Clogging the throat and the nose and the brain!_

_Hairs retracting –bones breaking –shrinking –cold ice in the veins, heart hammering loudly, deafening, dying! Where was God? Where was safe?_

_Reborn –new light, new smells, new skin. Alleyways strewn with blood and shit, smearing the bare feet. Rancid! Flesh raw and prickly, feeling every dust mote and pebble._

_Staggering … brain adjusting … remember to breathe ..._

_Remember to think …_

_Remember to speak …_

_Keep to the shadows. Running, scrambling, sniffing the air? Empty! Nothing to smell but you!_

_Home? Home? Where is home?_

_Home …_

 

 

~0~

 

 

Harry peered up at his reflection. His skin was sallow, he hadn't shaved in a while and couldn't afford a new razor just yet. His hair was a greasy, black mess and his eyes were bloodshot. He hadn't slept too well the last few nights. Whenever he did manage to sleep it was usually fitful. That only made him feel more tired when he made use of his days. He was sleeping later and heavier and his brain was often a sluggish mess in the daylight hours in between. He'd felt completely rude and as though he were in another world when he'd attended a luncheon with Ron and Hermione on Wednesday. He'd gotten a reply from his Papa the day before with a small paper packet filled with deep indigo coloured plants. The bold letters that had been printed on the packet read:

' _DO NOT HANDLE WITHOUT GLOVES!_ '

Said planets were now in a clay pot on his mantelpiece. The letter from his Papa had been somewhat encouraging but not terribly insightful.

' _Harry,_

_First of all, I shall not tell your mama about what you told me. As long as you are safe and well that's all that matters. I am here if you wish to discuss it more._

_These plants are commonly known around these parts as **'Devils Helmet'**  –clearly you can see why. They are known to be extremely poisonous, so be sure not to touch them unless you are wearing gloves. They can be mixed into a paste or a salve with some other ingredients (recipes included on the back) or a small part of them can be dried out, crushed and mixed to become a home brew of tea. They can be quite poisonous still if drunk excessively and are also highly addictive._

_Try to take care of yourself, okay?_

_All my love and concern,_

_Papa_ '

Harry had instantly been wary of the plant currently drying itself out on his mantle. He had no desire to start drugging himself to such an extent. He'd just carry on using the laudanum doses his doctor prescribed him.

Not that they were doing much to cure his wounds.

He touched his new dressings gingerly, his mouth tasting bitter at the memory of having his wound sterilised and dried out before new bandages had been wrapped on. A tremor ran down his spine. He rubbed a rough hand down his face and looked at the window in his reflection. The sun was hovering on the horizon, slowly sinking within the last hour before dusk officially fell. His lecture was due to start within that hour. He still needed to bathe himself and try to look presentable enough before showing up at the hospital.

' _I wonder what horror will be waiting for me today_ ,' he mentally sighed.

Thinking about those prostitutes made his throat constrict. Maybe he just wasn't up for being a doctor. Perhaps he'd need to just help his Papa back home, instead of broadening his horizons down in London. Clearing his throat, he turned to heat some water on over the fire for him to wash in. Standing in just his undergarments, he shuddered as a chill pimpled his skin. He scrubbed his face, hands and under his arms as he was sure he was stinking out his best shirts, before running the bar of cold soap over his legs. His body steamed in the tepid room. Scooping up handfuls of warm water, he sluiced the soapy scum off his arms, back and genitals before air drying in front of the low fire.

Once he was finally dressed, Harry sighed.

He just needed to get to the hospital. Once he was there, he'd get into the rhythm of things. A chill crept down his spine; something was waiting for them all in that theatre he could just  _feel_  it.

The sound of the door closing behind them echoed around the cavernous room. The air smelled stale and like it hadn't been cleaned since their last lecture. Of course it had been –something else was causing that rancid smell. Perhaps it was the huge object covered in a muslin sheet that Snape had erected in the centre of his platform. ' _I knew it!_ ' Harry inwardly sneered as he sank down onto his usual bench near the front. There was light shuffling around him as the other six young men settled down around him and leaned forward, expectantly watching the sheet covered object.

Snape was not there yet.

Strange.

After five minutes of waiting around with no indication as to where their current lesson was going to go, Zabini leaned forward on his bench and eyed the object. "So how many guesses there's another prostitute under that sheet?"

Silence followed his question.

"It looks too big to be another whore," Thomas said, frowning up at the platform. "Perhaps it's a man this time?"

Zabini smirked. "I dare one of you to take the sheet off."

"WHAT?" Neville gasped. "Are you mad?"

The other man shrugged.

Harry watched as Neville shook his head, the blood draining from his face. Thomas scoffed but didn't object.

The silence made Harry ache in his bones.

"At least six of you have some respect for the way I try to teach restraint and patience among you lot!" Snape's voice echoed out. It rebounded off the walls like the crack of a whip and made them all spin round. The grim-faced Professor stood up from where he'd been sitting in the middle of the back row and began to descent the stairs to the floor of the theatre.

He swooped past them like a spectre, his black robes billowing.

"Now that I've piqued the interest of you all," he stated bluntly, his dark eyes cutting at Zabini a fraction longer than the rest of them. "We can begin the lesson."

He tugged the sheet off the object.

Harry's heard exploded in his ears.

There on the table –under the bright lamps and reeking of strange chemicals to stop decomposition –was the body of a wolf.

At least –it looked like a wolf.

The body was covered in coarse, matted grey hair that looked as though it was thick with mud and other bits of filth. Harry wrinkled his nose yet craned his neck to try and get a better vantage point. Yet the head didn't appear lupine at all. In fact, the skull itself looked a lot smaller than the rest of the body. The skin around the skull was sickly, greyish and looked as though any hair growing there was thin, sparse and greasy. Around the hairline there appeared to be bright blue and purple veins pressed up against the skin. However the rest of the face seemed to be a cacophony of two mammals merged together.

His stomach squirmed.

It was so unbearably unnatural but at the same time it was hard to look away from something so grotesque. The patches of hair were spaced out in irregular patches, giving the creature the appearance of being mauled by –something bigger.

"Sir?" Thomas raised a hand, even though that wasn't standard practice in their lectures. "What exactly is that?"

"THAT, Thomas, is the first smart question anyone's asked for a while." A few of the others around Harry bristled at that comment. Harry often thought that the man was callous to his students in order to keep them grounded. Medicine was an ever-evolving practice; they were always discovering new medicines, new procedures and new way to administer treatments. "For all of you also wondering the same thing, this creature before you is something I managed to pick up down South in the Sevenoaks region."

Snape had captured it? Somehow it felt foreign to think of Snape doing anything more energetic than gliding from point A to point B.

"That, gentlemen, is what we have been studying for the last several weeks. It is either the exact one –or related to the one –that has been slaughtering those prostitutes during the Witching Hour for the last month."

Harry felt his throat run dry. His wound was starting to itch, the thin fibres burrowing their way into his open pores like ticks. He ground his back teeth together as he watched Snape curled his long, gloved hand into the thin, greasy black strands of hair on the creature's skull and lifted it off the table. Getting a full view of the things face head-on was a shock that churned the stomach. Harry almost choked on the stomach acid that raced up his throat.

"This, gentlemen, is what we in the teachings of the occult call ' _Lupinotuum Pectinem'_  –more commonly known as a werewolf."


	10. 14th September 1888

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains explicit scenes of a sexual nature and issues relating to mental health (applicable especially of the time period). Please respect these parameters, so no flamers, no whining, nothing but criticisms and / or fangirling.

**~0~**

**_Friday 14th September_ **

**~0~**

 

 

Harry took his time disinfecting himself and pulling on the rubber apron and gloves. Every sound, every breath seemed to put him even more on edge. He felt as though he were hypersensitive to the world around him. The hairs all over his body were perpetually on end as he raked a gloved hand through his hair, adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath before turning to face the corpse shackled to the operating table.

He wondered why the creature had been chained up but Snape insisted that it was necessary on the off chance that their tampering with the corpse caused any strange or possibly dangerous outcomes. Harry remained unconvinced as he drew in a deep breath and joined his fellow classmates at a safe distance around the operating table.

Snape didn't make any move to speak.

They watched him in silence until Neville piped up.

"Sir –how exactly were you able to capture this –thing?" he hedged, his voice a tad higher than it ought to be.

"Magic," Snape drawled.

"No, really sir?"

Snape narrowed his eyes but didn't repeat himself. "I simply tracked the animal and attacked when it was in a weakened state. For example, at the first break of sunlight."

Harry itched at his arm.

It had been two weeks since the last full moon –yet this body was still fresh. How was that possible? Was the myth that werewolves only changed at the full moon just that? A lie?

"You may be wondering how this corpse is still fresh considering we're midway into the moon cycle?"

Silence.

"As it happens, I had this creature in my possession for the last two weeks. I have been testing a draught that is meant to make these daemons docile. Suffice to say, this beast died before I was able to perfect the dosage."

"Was this the creature that attacked those prostitutes?" Neville asked.

Snape shook his head. "No. This one was not the creature that stalks our streets. Although knowing that there is more than one within a twenty mile radius is unsettling to say the least."

Harry swallowed, trying not to look at any one place too long. His arm was really starting to burn through the bandages. He bit the inside of his cheek and flexed his fingers through the rubber gloves. A tremor ran down his spine. Snape's words blurred into white noise. The lights seemed to grow dimmer and his retinas burned in his skull.

Something clapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped, his head jerking up. His eyes burned, everything felt sharp and painful and his skin felt electrified. He could feel sweat beading over his clammy skin.

" _Are you okay Harry?_ "

Swallowing, his mouth dry, Harry nodded. He could feel Snape's eyes burning through his skin but he ignored it. Pursing his lips, he forced his hunched shoulders straighter, every bone rigid and grinding under his skin. He'd missed something but there was no time to explain as a scalpel flashed in the lamplight. Everything about this thing was larger in comparison to it's human counterpart; as one side of the mammals head was midway into becoming human –it was easy to compare to a fresh sample. The manual work was the easy party. It was when studying the empty chasm of bone and muscle and thin layers of oozing fat that was disquieting.

Neville was given the task of dissolving any left over flesh from the skull before setting it out to dry for further examination. Harry had never seen a human man looking greener than Neville did in those moments. Thomas was given the task of bagging up the entrails and disposing of them in the furnace down the corridor. The smell was so rotten it churned their stomachs. The air cleared a little once the bag was dragged away.

"What happened to the man who –became this?" Zabini asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he swept a heap of mottled grey fur aside.

"He died."

"I can see that!" came the terse reply. "I mean … Is there a missing person's report? Is there a family to notify of his death?"

"That's already been taken care of."

"How?" Thomas asked.

"I sent an official statement from the police station down Sevenoaks, showed them the body and they have written to the family with a death certificate signed by myself," the professor explained coolly, his features expressionless as he flexed his gloved fingers around a bone-saw. "Whatever is left in the furnace we shall send to the family for the creatures funeral."

"But sir," Harry piped up licking his dry lips. "Who was the man?"

"He was of no concern to us," Snape said.

"But you do know who he was? Even … like this?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter." Snape lowered the saw onto the table, and folded his arms across his chest. His expression darkened a fraction, his eyes glinting like still, black pools in the night. "There is always a way to extract that sort of information from someone –even in a lycanthropic state. This man told me himself before he died, who he was and where he was from. From that alone, I was able to locate his family."

"But sir -?"

"Do not pity this creature, Potter. He is dead. Knowing who he was will not bring him back nor humanise what was left of him."

Harry felt his jaw click shut.

A few pairs of eyes watched him as Snape eased off his gloves and went to change out of the apron and resume his usual position beside the podium and the large blackboard. Harry swallowed any other questions that had danced on his tongue, and instead when about scrubbing the blood, fat and pus stains from the metal examination table. They sluiced cold water over their scrubbing hands, wincing at the temperature through their thick gloves, and continued until all the tainted water flowed away.

Before Snape dismissed them by the toll of the bell in the courtyard, he set them to their task of lying out the bleached werewolf skeleton on the table. It was like fitting all the pieces to a large, white puzzle. Now that all the flesh, oozing wounds and fur had been stripped away it was fascinating to see the deformed shape of the half-turned skull, the way the bone fused awkwardly and misshaped itself. The way the bones fit neatly and at the same time irregularly to creature such an unholy beast.

Still, having it spread out before them in such a black-and-white way was phenomenal!

Once the skeleton was paid out, the bones still fermenting a faint chemical smell, Snape directed them to sketch out the skeleton in their notebooks and –for their personal studying –they were to annotate said diagram and identify any non-human bones they found. Harry was surprised as it seemed like the tamest personal study assignments they'd ever been assigned.

The bell tolled one o'clock in the courtyard.

"That'll be all for tonight," Snape intoned. "Clean up and get out."

Considering how tired they all looked and felt, the young men were more than happy to hand in their rubber aprons and gloves and take their time to get ready to leave. The evenings events had taken a toll on Harry's mind as he slowly packed his satchel away and slung it over his shoulder.

Just before they were making their way up to their door, Snape's voice made them all stop in their tracks.

"We will be having a lecture at 10PM Monday evening. I want you all there with your current work completed and up to date. After that, there will be no lectures for two weeks until the start of next month. If I need your presence prior to them, I shall notify you."

"But sir that's short notice," Thomas said.

The pale, sallow face looked up at them, thin lips pressed into a line. "Yes."

"Well … What if some of us have plans?"

"Cancel them."

"But sir –"

"I said dismissed. Or did you fail to pay attention?"

The two men stared at one another for a while. Harry felt a tingle run down his spine. The weight of Snape's gaze always left anyone staring back at him feeling –sick and weakened. It was peculiar. It was almost as though he had a power over people that no one else was able to understand.

Stepping out into the cool evening air, Harry drew in a deep breath of chimney smoke and Thames water. He stood at the top of the hospital steps for a while, taking in the sight of London stretched out before him, like the burning embers of a dying fire. The first bead of light would shatter said darkness in a few hours. The silence would be broken, too, with birds chirping and the shop vendors opening up for the day.

For now there was just stillness.

It had become one of the things that Harry had started to indulge in, since his night lectures had started. Drawing in a deep breath, quieting the buzzing anxieties in his mind, Harry made his way down the steps and out of the courtyard. Raking a hand through his tousled hair, he made his way East towards his lodgings, whereas everyone else seemed to veer of in a westward direction. As he walked through the streets, his breathing filled his ears and the sound of his shoes clicked softly on the cobblestone road. A few people still milled about here and there so he wasn't completely alone. However the further he moved through the narrow streets, the quieter it became.

He was about half-way to his lodgings when he caught sound of another pair of heels clicking nearby. It tickled at his senses but he focused on the pavement as he wove his way down a side alley into a neighbouring street.

The heels followed him.

His heart spiked a little as he tried keeping close to the houses, not wanting to be caught unawares from the side.

' _You're being paranoid_ ,' he told himself. ' _A lot of people live this way and the pubs are only just closing. Get a grip_.'

His breathing grew a little harsher in his ears.

The wound on his arm prickled and burned.

The mysterious person continued to follow.

' _Please, just get me to my door!_ ' he silently prayed to his feet –God –anyone who would listen. ' _I'm nearly there, just let me get inside!_ '

Blood bubbled in his ears, drowning out the sounds of his feet and the other Witching Hour noises. Only the blood, his heartbeat and the prickling white noise fizzing in his bones filled his ears.

What if it was the murderer? What would he do then? Could he outrun him? Fight him off? What if his disembowelled body ended up on the front page of the papers? In Snape's next class?

He started to sweat.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he was sure he screamed before blacking out.

~0~

Warm darkness.

That was the first thing that Harry thought of when his mind drifted back into consciousness.

Where was he?

"I can see your eyelids moving," murmured a low voice. "Wake up."

Despite the heaviness of his muscles, Harry obeyed his –saviour? Captor? –and opened his eyes. Everything was still blurry but he was just about able to make out the pale outline of his sparse furniture in his lodgings. That was a good sign. Right? Blinking through bleary eyelids, he squinted in the direction of the shadow that loomed in the armchair parked in the middle of the room. His throat was dry and his joints were still from sleeping awkwardly.

Patting himself down he winced; he was naked under the thin bedsheets.

"Where am I?" he asked uselessly.

"Your place."

"Why?"

"I brought you here."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why did you bring me here?"

A pause. "Where else would I bring you?"

Rubbing the heel of his hands against his eyes, Harry drew in slow calming breaths and tried to organise his thoughts.

_I'm in my own house._

_I'm not in much pain._

_I seem to know this person._

_They were following me._

His eyes snapped open. Peering up through the greasy strings of his fringe, he squinted at the other man. "You were following me," he stated.

"Of course I did," the shadowed figure shrugged. "How else am I meant to know you're okay?"

"Goddamnit Draco!" Harry sneered, banging a fist into the wall. "We've talked about this!"

If the blonde man was perturbed by the plaster that chipped away from where Harry had struck the wall, he didn't show it. He merely kept his face expressionless, before folding his hands in his lap. "If you'll recall," he said. "I let you talk. I decided not to listen to your concerns."

"So what? Your concerns outweigh my own?" Harry sneered.

"No," Draco placated. "But you are, however, far too unconcerned for your own well-being. Someone needs to look out for you, and I daresay your landlord wouldn't think twice about burning your belongings and renting the room out again."

He had a point. Harry hated that, but it was true.

"What were you even doing around here at that time of night?" he snapped.

Draco let out a weary sigh. "I was waiting for the lecture to finish of course. I ran a little late and had to walk a fair bit before catching up with you."

"I was nearly home! Why did you need to give me a fright?"

"That was an accident and I apologise for it."

"Draco please," Harry cupped his face in his hands, restraining the urge to yell out. "I'm having a very bad weak. The nightmares aren't going away, my wound isn't healing the way it should and I think I'm getting a bit on edge walking around in the dark all the time. So can you please do me a favour and LEAVE ME ALONE?"

"After what you've just told me? I hardly think so."

"Draco –please …"

"Harry, enough. Until the danger has passed I want to be able to look after you. You know my door is always open if you don't feel safe."

"You live further from the hospital than I do!" Harry protested heatedly.

"Yes, but in a well-lit part of the city as opposed to those back streets you weave through."

Harry tightened his fingers into fists. "You're being ridiculous!"

"And you're being an incessant pain!"

"Fine!" Harry snapped. "Then leave!"

Narrowing his eyes, Draco stood up. Harry flinched away from him as he crossed to the bed and towered over the dark-haired man, looking so frail in his undergarments. His skin was loosing its lustrous sunkissed look and his ribs were starting to poke out a little too much. "You're neglecting yourself," he intoned.

"I've been ill!" Harry sneered. "I was attacked, in case you'd forgotten."

"Why do you think I'm here?"#

"No offence, Draco, but I really don't think you could fend off a werewolf!"

' _Especially if I'm one too_ ,' echoed in his mind. He shook the thought away. There was no need for that.

"Come and stay with me tonight."

The offer caught Harry off-guard. He spluttered uselessly, his body flushing a bright pink as he self-consciously drew the sheets up around his chest. "W-why?"

"So I can help take care of you. You're not well, like you said. You need some supervision."

"I'm not a child!"

"Then stop acting like one and get dressed," Draco demanded.

Twenty minutes later Harry found himself clumsily keeping pace with the blonde man as they frogmarched through the London streets. Harry had a hat pulled low over his eyes. The summer sun was burning his retinas. Surely it hadn't been that bright last month? His clothes felt itchy on his skin. Draco had given him time to wash and redress his wound but the angry red and purple welts didn't seem to be healing at all.

Once at Draco's place, a bath was ordered. Harry didn't hear what was being said at the door, his muscles tense at bathing so early on such a lovely day. Not to mention, he still has his notes to go over. He couldn't dawdle on those –

"Harry?"

Blinking, the green-eyed man frowned. "Sorry –what?"

"I asked if you were alright," Draco said. "You've not touched your tea."

Harry glanced down and nearly jumped out of his seat. Not only was he resting in the plush velvet armchair but at some point he'd even been handed a cup of tea –when had this happened? Why couldn't he remember? His skull started to throb and he groaned. Shifting the teacup onto the table, he dropped his head into his hands and hunched over. "My head –why does it hurt so much?"

A hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed. "Come here Harry. Let me help."

Weakly, the brunette shook his head but didn't protest when the blonde man took him by the wrists and helped him to stand up. He let his head bob weakly as he watched through half-closed eyelids as pale hands unfastened the buttons of his waistcoat, shirt and loosened his slacks. He only shuddered a little as his legs were bared to the air.

He was guided by his wrists over to the bathtub.

The heat from the water sent shockwaves rippling through him.

He was about to lean back and settle in the tub he was greeted with the view of Draco, pure white and naked, dark gold hairs trimmed neatly between his legs and under his arms. He swallowed drily at the length of the mans' member as he lowered himself down into the frothy water. His stomach tightened as the water rose around his shoulders and chest. The aromas tickled at his senses but all he could focus on in that moment was that Draco was leaning closer to him. The world blurred as Draco lifted the spectacles from his face.

His breathing came out in ragged gasps.

There was nothing but the soft rays of sunlight shining in through the window and making Draco look ethereal. Harry had to focus on anything else just to keep himself from having a problem. Unfortunately, Draco took it upon himself to take a bar of soap in his hands, rub vigorously until his fingers were dripping with lather, and took Harry's arm and started to wash him. It was a peculiar feeling, having someone else's hands all over you. The way Draco's fingers ran over every inch of skin, up under his armpit, over the curves of his collarbones, and down the ridges of his ribcage. It sent shivers running through him.

"What are you doing?" Harry murmured as Draco reached his lathered fingers under the frothy water to massage Harry's thighs. Tipping his head back, the brunette let out a low, guttural moan. "That feels nice."

"If you like, once you're clean, I can help you relax properly."

Harry let out a shuddering breath, his erection straining heavily just inches from Draco's fingertips. "If … If you think it would help."

Harry shuddered, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. He let his eyelids close and focused solely on the sensation of Draco's long, firm fingers running down his calves, over his ankles and pressing firmly in the dimples in his thighs. It made a sulphuric heat pool in his stomach. Stars flashed behind his eyelids and he was tense all over, biting on his bottom lip. Draco's hands moved further up his thighs and wrapped roughly around his –

"Draco no! I'm –!"

He came hot and heavy in the frothy water, feeling him rinse out completely in the bathtub. "Oh my God!" he cried out, covering his face with his wet hands. He sank lower into the tub in a vain attempt to drown himself. "I'm so –I didn't mean –Oh God Draco don't look at me! I'm disgusting!"

There was a pause. "Why would I think you're disgusting?"

"I just –I did that –while being touched by you –by a man!"

"Did you enjoy it?" Draco asked, his voice a low rumble in his throat.

Harry looked down, the wet gold hair obscuring his view of Draco's clear grey eyes. A tremor ran through his stomach. Licking his lips, he felt blood rush through him. "Y-yes … I did …"

Draco raised his head, those eyes searing through Harry's soul like steel. "Good."

Harry barely had a moment to think before Draco was on top of him. He whimpered as Draco held his head in place, slipping his tongue down his throat, his hips slipping easily between Harry's knees. Harry felt his insides flip as he felt Draco's member –hard and urgent –rubbing against his own. The soapy water tickled the hairs between his legs and made his hips jerks slowly but firmly into the tight thighs of the blonde man.

Harry craned his neck back over the edge of the tub, his fingers reaching up to rake through Draco's hair, as the older man ravaged his neck. Every time those sharp teeth grazed a sensitive spot over and over –Harry vibrated with arousal as they rutted together. He wanted more –he didn't know what more even was –but he was in a frenzy that couldn't be controlled!

"Draco I –"

"What do you need Harry?" Draco growled in his ear. "Tell me what you need from me!"

"I –I –I don't know!" he groaned out, spreading his legs even wider, letting Draco slot closer against him.

"Get up," Draco growled, pulling away.

Harry whined at the loss of constant, craning his head up to pant heavily. "Wh-why did you stop?"

Draco clutched the sides of the tub, his teeth barred, steam rising up in plumes as he prepared to pounce. "Turn around."

Harry frowned. "W-Why?"

"Do it."

On trembling hands and knees, Harry managed to turn in the tub and braced his body over the back end. The cool air made his skin prickle with goosepimples. The hairs on the back of his arms and neck stood up on end. Worrying his bottom lip he frowned into the shadows of the room beyond him. ' _What am I doing?_ ' his brain screamed as his eyes fell onto the mutilated arm. Draco had unwrapped it for his bath. ' _What are you thinking letting this happen?!_ '

Everything went blank as he felt Draco's hands on his hips. They squeezed him roughly, wet thighs pressing against his buttocks. He let out a hitched gasp as a hand wove around his chest, up around his throat and tipped his chin back. Teeth on his neck made him tremble, his hips bucking backward, feeling the thick erection, wet and ready against his cleft. His arms began to shake as Draco rubbed him swollen member against Harry's buttocks.

Harry felt pain and fire tear through the blank mess of his mind.

"Wha-What're you -?"

"Relax," came Draco's guttural voice.

"But I –"

"Relax."

Harry closed his eyes and tried to relax as he felt Draco's long, smooth finger slowly teasing his entrance. Suddenly he felt hot, tight and sweaty and didn't know how to react, how to relax, how to BREATHE with Draco pressed up against his back, slowly easing in and out of his body. It was a sensation he'd never imagined feeling –it wasn't entirely unpleasant either.

However the thought of having Draco completely inside him –he choked.

"Shh, it'll be okay," Draco purred, his teeth nibbling on Harry's earlobe. His free hand worked on the tense muscles the brunette's back, while his other hand quickened in pace as he worked the younger man out. "Trust me."

' _Do I trust him?_ ' Harry thought, leaving his body. From his space on the ceiling, he watched as his body indulged in the sensations Draco was giving him. Arching back into the blonde, displaying himself ready and willing his face contorted in pain and pleasure as Draco readied his slick erection and pressed himself into the tight opening.

Body and soul clashed together and Harry let out a long yowl of painful pleasure.

He didn't last long. Being stretched like a thin sheet of rubber tight around Draco's member was both exhilarating, frightening and unlike any other pleasure he'd been able to experience in his time on earth. Everything was brimming and burning inside him. He wanted to weep with pleasure whenever Draco hit that  _one perfect spot_  inside him.

"Oh Draco!" he cried out. "Yes! Please, don't stop!"

Draco did as he was asked. He gripped Harry's shoulders, his thumb stroking the erogenous zones on his neck whilst thrusting his hips faster, harder, deeper until he felt pleasure lash through him like electricity. His mind spiralled as he shot his load as he plunged into Harry up to his hilt. He felt all his muscles strain and tense as he threw his head back and cried out.

Harry collapsed over the rim of the tub as Draco finally stopped spasming behind him, the grip on Harry's neck finally loosening. He drew in a deep breath and tried to close his thighs but couldn't. Draco was still between them, bracing himself over Harry, his hands gripping the side of the bath. Harry couldn't do anything.

He focused purely on breathing in … and out.

The blonde man behind him quickly rinsed himself in the tepid bathwater before climbing out on quaking legs. Harry didn't pay attention to anything but soon felt a warm towel drape over his shoulders. He trembled, his body finally realising just how cool the room was. "Thanks," he breathed as Draco took the time to get him up, out of the tub and dried off in front of the fire.

As the room was cleared and the manservant sparing Harry a look and a fresh pot of tea, Harry remained in a borrowed robe, perched in an armchair pulled up to the fire. Despite the bath and how thoroughly he'd been cleansed, the burning in his rear made him feel –dirty. Soiled.

_Tainted._

The thought made bile burn in his throat. He clenched his muscles tightly as he watched the tall, blonde man stride from place to place as though nothing had happened, as though this was a normal occurrence –as though Harry wasn't his first.

More bile rose in his throat.

"Why did you do that?" he breathed into the dying light.

Draco stopped his hunt through his many drawers for some night shirts for them both to wear, and turned slowly to frown at his companion. "Excuse me?"

"Why did you –do that –to me?" He couldn't look up. Couldn't see the pity, the callousness in those grey eyes. It could cut him too deeply.

Draco stiffened and straightened up. Suddenly, the room became a chasm between them. "I thought it was what we both wanted," he admitted.

"I never said I wanted … to be … to do …" his voice broke. He pressed his lips together and huddled up tighter in the armchair.

"Harry what are you so afraid of?" Draco asked, coming into the warm glow of the fire.

Harry clenched his eyes shut. ' _I'm scared that I'm a demonic beast!' he thought, 'I'm terrified I'll wake up one day and have your mangled corpse in my bed! Your blood staining my teeth and nails like a macabre painting!'_

"Harry? Talk to me."

"How many others?" he finally rasped.

"I'm sorry?"

"How many other men have you –done that to?"

Draco licked his lips, his own stomach turning in knots. "Do you plan on reporting me to the authorities?" he asked tightly.

Harry's head jerked up. "No! Of course not I just –I  _need_  to know."

"Fine," Draco sighed, raking a hand through his damp hair. "If you must know –I've only ever had experiences with two other gentlemen. The first was my father's old butler at our manor. It was only a few kisses and some light touches. I was fourteen at the time. When father found out, he shot the man dead before he could get off the front porch." He paused, licking his lips and thinking about how he'd watched from a parlour window as Lionel had tried to flee and been toppled forward onto the green, a spray of red blood painting the white roses. His stomach churned inside him, the weight of Harry's eyes on his face. "The second man was about eight years ago, when I'd just turned twenty-three. I met him in a nightclub. I had thought everything was happy and enjoyable until father sent me a clipping, stating that he had married in the week he told me he was going abroad." He let out a cold laugh. "He tried to continue the affair but –I'm not that sort of person."

"But you will happily –b-be with men?" Harry cursed his trembling lips.

"No." Draco shook his head. "I'd happily be with  _you_. If you would so wish, that is. If not –there's no reason this has to change anything."

"Is that why you live alone?" Harry asked, pulling the robe tighter around him.

"It helps," Draco acknowledged. "Though originally it wasn't my choice. This was father's way of –keeping me at bay."

"I see."

Draco watched the younger man for a while. His heart ached in his chest and he couldn't put his finger on the emotion he felt. Longing? Trepidation? He wasn't sure. "There's a nightshirt on the bed for you," he murmured tonelessly. "Have a nice rest."

Harry started. "W-where will you sleep?"

"I have another room I can stay in," Draco said. "It's fine. You need your space. That, at least, I can give you." He stood up and made to leave.

"Draco wait!"

"Honestly Harry," Draco reached out and placed a soft hand on the younger man's shoulder. "One night won't hurt you. Okay? You're safe here."

Harry looked up at the blonde man and felt his insides spin uncomfortably. He both wanted time to reflect and also to have Draco by his side. The conflicting emotions made him feel uneasy. "Okay …" he murmured, watching as the blonde man gathered another nightshirt in his arms and made for the door, his silver embroidered robe billowing slightly around his ankles. "Goodnight."

Draco turned at the door, "Goodnight Harry."

 

 

~0~

 

 

_Marble –stone –wood –cool, balmy air –sticking to the teeth, to the eyes, to the fur to the blood! Cloying and suffocating, spiralling inside, electrodes attaching to every notch on the spine, burrowing deep into the brain like a tick. Radiating poison through the soul and turning it black!_

_Anger –rage –bloodlust –hunger!_

_Scraping paws under the skin, begging for release._

_OUT! OUT! OUT!_

_Smell the blood –smell the soap –feel the flesh run down the throat!_

_COMING FOR YOU!_

_Bright eyes, soft skin, so fine, so pristine, so perfectly human! Sleeping unaware. The perfect trap. Slither the moonbeams down the throat, twist the soul and the bones and the brain and release!_

_Rip you apart, bite your heart –scream, scream, SCREAM!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... what do we think about this little ... late night activity? ;)


	11. 21st September 1888

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Contains mature language and some smut.

**_~0~_ **

**_Friday 21th September 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

Harry didn't know how it happened, but it was about four days before he realised he'd not been to his lodgings for a while. His landlord would most likely rent his room out again soon if he didn't show his face, so he had to deal with the gruelling task of telling Draco that he was going to work from home for the day.  
That day, however, turned into a worthless nightmare.

He stared out of the window for over an hour before jerking back to reality and realising that there was a large spot of ink spreading across his notebook page from where he'd been tapping the end of his quill on his book. He'd cursed and had to rip about three pages out of his journal and toss it into the cold fireplace.

He'd sat at his table, hands pressed under his chin as he stared out through the shaft of sunlight that fell across him. Eventually, his mind had snapped, he'd tossed his things into his satchel and hurried down into the street and along the road to Draco's side of the bridge.

The blonde man had let him back into his home and had given Harry his space when he'd asked for a room with a desk so that he could work. There was something he couldn't explain, as he'd been left alone in Draco's study, about the feeling he'd felt as soon as he'd stepped over that threshold. It had felt calming –which had surprised him. He hadn't realised how on edge and jittery he'd felt until he'd stopped and breathed with polished marble floors under his feet.

Harry hadn't been able to get to work straight away. Instead, the dark haired man had taken great pleasure in rifling through Draco's papers, books and the drawers that dotted the dark panelled room. He knew he was invading the blonde's privacy but there was –something –something he couldn't put his finger on. Something that tickled his nose, fermented at the back of his mind, and coiled like a salamander on the flaming rock within his gut.

Finally, he found it.

In the top desk drawer, right at the back passed a pile of neat papers, a few loose quills and a small leather purse of coins –there was a small burlap pouch tied with a drawstring and felt somewhat crunchy as his fingers poked and prodded.

' _What is that?_ ' he thought as he dragged the pouch out of the drawer and dropped it onto the desk. His fingers tingled a little from where he'd touched the pouch. The smell was … familiar. Where had he smelled it before?

Drawing in a deep breath, he stepped away from the desk and ran a hand through his hair. Turning his eyes around the room he stretched his arms up over his head. "Oh, what am I doing here?" he mumbled to himself. "What the hell am I doing here?"

' _Do some work!_ ' his brain snapped irritably.

Rolling his eyes he pinched his nose. He knew he had to work. He knew he had to impress Snape in order to continue the course in the New Year. There was nothing in his brain, though. Everything was utterly blank.

The clock chimed for midday.

He'd been useless and listless all morning –how was that even possible?

Out of the corner of his eye the small burlap pouch sat harmlessly on the desktop, bathed in the sunlight filtering in through the ornate windows. It felt as though –the smell was getting stronger –like the sun was helping the aroma to permeate the room –and his senses. Feeling a twisting in his stomach, he snatched the bag off the top, opened one of the small casement windows and tossed the sack outside into the courtyard garden below.

 

 

~0~

 

 

When Draco returned at dusk, he was greeted by a room that no longer resembled his study. It looked as though an extravagant ritual had taken place; the floorboards and blackboards he'd kept in storage, now adorned tons of notes, diagrams and symbols copied out from various dusty tomes. As the light faded away outside the latticed windows, Draco's eyes fell upon the hunched over figure of a topless Harry seated in the centre of said symbols.

A tremor ran down his spine as he closed the door.

"Harry?" he hedged, tightening his grip on his cane. "What have you been doing in here?"

"I have found a variation of alleged cures for the werewolf malady through these textbooks!" he panted, turning his frazzled appearance toward the blonde. "I'm sorry –I needed to map it all out to understand it better."

Draco frowned down at the state of his floor. It wouldn't be cheap to get it varnished again. "The boards weren't enough?"

He didn't expect an answer to his question –and he didn't get one.

"Harry, you need to get some rest."

"I'm fine."

Pursing his lips, Draco tried again. "Harry, please? Join me for dinner? You need a break."

Harry let out a rough laugh. "If I stop now, I'll lose my train of thought!"

"Didn't you take notes?" he asked, browsing over the notes littering his desk. There were so many balls of scrunched up paper that it made his brain hurt just looking at him. "How can you even concentrate when the place looks so messy?"

"I'll write it down later!" Harry waved him off. "I'm missing something –but I can't work out what!"

Draco tried to start clearing up the notes but the shuffling noise of paper caught the younger mans attention. "NO!" he yelled out, hurrying over and snatching the notes from the blonde's hands and spreading them messily out over the desk once again. "Leave them as they were! You'll muddle them!"

"They're already muddled!" Draco snapped.

They glared at each other for a moment, before Draco relented and backed away from the desk. Instead, he went over to the symbols on the floor completely perplexed. He hadn't even realised he had chalk in his possession –but there it was, as clear as day marring his floor.

"Harry –what is all this?" he asked, dreading the answer in his bones. He tugged at his collar, feeling the airlessness in the room. "Why are you doing this?"

"It's for my thesis," Harry murmured over his shoulder.

"Thesis for what?"

"Snape's class."

Draco furrowed his brows even further. "And what exactly is your thesis about?"

"That werewolf bites inject an extra chromosome into the body and it becomes triggered by the Lunar cycle."

"Right …"

"And every four weeks the body tries to repel said chromosome but it doesn't work, instead attacking the hosting body."

"So you're thinking that the werewolf toxin –is like a parasitic entity?"

Harry turned wide, surprised eyes towards the blonde. "I … y-yes."

Taking off his overcoat, Draco tugged up his trousers and crouched down, his fingers gingerly tracing through the chalk symbols on his floor. "I'm assuming you're not trying to isolate any herbal remedies that may be able to control or extract said parasite?"

Harry gave a breathless little smile. "I am … how do you know?"

"I've been studying under Snape for years. I'd no don't be a junior lecturer at that hospital by now if it weren't for my own maladies."

Harry looked over at his companion. "Is that why you don't get along with Snape?" he asked quietly.

"We get along the way we always have. He … helped me when my father thew me out."

"What did he do for you?" Harry asked.

Draco didn't answer right away. "He helped me to –get control of my urges. Tried to make medicines that would control my illnesses and the –side-effects."

"Did they work?"

Draco shrugged. "It's an on-going process."

Harry nodded and dropped his focus back to the desk, littered with all his notes and workbooks. "I'm sorry about the mess!" he gushed as he raked his hair out of his red eyes. "I'll clear it up!"

"I think you need to have a rest, Harry. Go and rest then join me for dinner. The mess can wait until later."

"But … Draco I can't take a break!"

"Take a little one. Then I'll help you with your research okay?"

"But –that's dishonest!"

Draco let out a bark of laughter. "Do you really think Snape acquired those bodies completely legally?"

Harry blinked as though he'd been struck. "I –well –no, I suppose not. I –I hadn't really thought about it."

"Maybe next time you should think about it."

Harry pursed his lips and gathered his things from Draco's desk, taking great care not to jeopardise the order they were stacked in. Draco watched the younger man for a moment or two, before heading for the door. "I'll have dinner prepared for 7PM. Try and be presentable by then. I'll let you sort yourself out until then."

Harry watched as the door closed and left him alone –surrounded by symbols and dried herbs.

 

 

 

Later that evening as the two young men were eating in the dining room, Harry was all too aware of how loud everything seemed. He rubbed at his ears and tried to pay attention to what Draco was talking about in regards to the attacks around London. Hardly any of the words sank into his mind, however, as he'd been consecutively out of 'harms way' for at least two weeks. On top of all of this, his current workload for Snape's class was bordering on an overwhelming magnitude. As he slowly ate his way through his food –a struggle for him as his stomach seemed to shrink away from the very idea of digesting –he watched the blonde man through the light of the setting sun filtering in through the latticed windows.

_"… Harry?"_

"Y-Yes?" He blinked back to the moment.

"Did you hear a word of what I said?" Draco asked, his voice tight.

"I … No, I'm sorry. I don't think I did."

"I said, that if you like, I have a small apothecary contact over in Camden Town. If you'd like, I have an appointment with him in two nights' time to pick up an order for Snape. If you'd like, you're more than welcome to join me. Perhaps we'll be able to find a few herbs that might be able to aid your studies."

"Oh! Gosh –Draco, no, that's far too kind of you!"

"Nothing kind about it. I want to help where I can. If I can, I will."

Harry chewed on his bottom lip but decided not to say anything.

After another half hour of stiff-jawed chewing, Harry was relieved of the arduous task when his plate was taken away. He had to politely decline dessert as his eyes had slowly gotten heavier due to the good, fruity wine and the ache radiating from his jaw. Maybe he didn't have the strength to study anymore tonight? Rubbing at his eyes he leaned back in the dining room chair and let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry Draco. I think I may need to sleep."

Draco's eyebrows rose up a notch. Setting his own glass of wine down –his silver signet ring gleaming from his finger –he looked over at Harry and pressed the back of his hand to the brunette's forehead. "You are a tad warm," Draco remarked.

"A fever?"

"Perhaps." Draco set his napkins aside and stood from his chair, gently guiding Harry out of his chair and taking him out towards the main hallway. "Let's just get you upstairs and have a quiet night."

Harry willingly obeyed.

Within the hour he was propped up in thick, over-stuffed pillows, curtains drawn against the night sky and lamplight of the streets below. The fire crackled merrily in the grate at the foot of the four-poster bed. Harry shuddered every now and then despite the summer time heat. Draco made sure to appear every half an hour until 11PM that evening, bringing Harry some sweet, fragrant teas and cool rags for his forehead to break his fever.

Harry didn't mind –at that point, Draco was a most welcome break in his black, hazy, heated headache.

Whenever Draco dabbed at his forehead or held a cup of tea to his parched lips, he felt warmth wash through him. It was serene and calming. There was something sweet in the tea, something that soothed his senses. He wasn't entirely sure what was in it –he needed to remember to ask first thing in the morning. The final time that he was visited during the night, he was pleased when he sank down into sleep –letting the flowery, perfumed tea coax him into dreams.

 

 

~0~

 

 

A bell above the door tinkled as they walked in.

It was a calm, warm night and only the taverns up and down London were open and accepting punters. Prostitutes and drunk men crowded in alleyways and cackled, however none of these low-life sounds came close to the bubble that Harry found himself in when he was around Draco Malfoy. As they stepped into the low-lit apothecary, they were greeted by Draco's client, a tall man with weathered skin and wiry, electrified white hair sticking up in all directions. He had bright blue eyes as he waved them inside.

"Don't just stand in the doorway, lads, I need to keep the average room temperature at thirty-five, you know."

Draco gave Harry an encouraging smile before closing the door behind them.

Harry advanced into the unfamiliar shop, his eyes lighting up at the hundreds of thousands of glass jars and bottles that lined the shelves. From the floor to the ceiling, green, brown and clear glass gleamed in the glow from the candles in their sconces mounted on the walls. The air was heady with a rich, flowery scent that was made Harry sway a little from side-to-side. It was dizzying as he craned his neck up to view the stained glass domed window at the top of the spiral staircase.

It was beautiful.

Draco chuckled. "So you like it, then?" he asked, his hand creeping up to rest in the small of Harry's back. The younger man started but didn't pull away.

"It's wonderful!" Harry beamed.

Draco shared a glance with the shop-owner, who inclined his head to the back office. Draco nodded before murmuring into Harry's ear. "I'll be right back. Mr. Ollivander needs to sign over some papers before giving me the order. Try not to touch anything."

"Can I read the labels?"

"They'll be plenty of time for that," Draco grinned. There was something in his smoky grey eyes that made Harry's insides quiver.

Draco closed the office door behind him and adjusted his eyes to the lower light within. "Do you have all the specimens for my Uncle?" he intoned in a bored manner.

"Yes," Ollivander grunted. "Although I must have you know, Master Malfoy, I gave up on this sort of work years ago! Your family needs to get some new contacts!"

"What can I say? Severus likes you."

Ollivander scoffed. "A fat lot of good that's done me."

"Money is money."

Ollivander ran a hand through his wiry hair as he gingerly selected bottles from a shelf behind the desk. "So what is your Uncle doing at the hospital these days to warrant such ingredients?"

"He's not told me that," Draco answered honestly. "I pop-in to aid from time-to-time but that's all."

"Pity. You had potential."

Draco swallowed thickly but didn't respond. He leaned back against the desk, cane trapped between his clasped hands. "I hope you don't mind that I brought my companion to your store at this late hour. He works with my uncle and doesn't have the same resources as his classmates."

"Of course not," Ollivander shrugged, setting down some vials on the desk. "I am surprised, however, that you're feeling remotely charitable."

Draco bristled, narrowing his eyes. "I am charitable. I just choose to not make a song and dance about everything I do."

Ollivander raised an amused eyebrow as he finished taking bottles off the shelves behind the desk. Setting everything down, he picked up a heavy-duty leather case and started aligning the bottles in the built-in racks within. The sound of glass on metal and wood twinkled in the silent office as he worked.

Ollivander raised an amused eyebrow as he finished taking bottles off the shelves behind the desk. Setting everything down, he picked up a heavy-duty leather case and started aligning the bottles in the built-in racks within. The sound of glass on metal and wood twinkled in the silent office as he worked. Every ingredient had been ticked off of Snape's list. "So," Ollivander broke the silence. "What's the real reason you're keen to help that young man out there?"

Draco arched his eyebrows at the shopowner. "Why does it concern you?"

"Well if you're being honest in wanting to help him, I don't mind giving him some work here. I could use someone to help me take inventory every two weeks."  
"You don't seem like you need the help."

"Fine!" Ollivander waved his hand, "I don't need the help, I would like the help. I'm not as young as I used to be. There is nothing wrong with having some extra pocket money to aid your friend in his studies, am I right?"

"I … I suppose not. I would need to ask him first, of course."

"Very well. I can also provide him with discounted herbs if he requires it."

"Now I need to wonder why you really want to help," Draco asked, straightening his posture even more. His palms were beginning to grow clammy in the airtight office. He felt his jaw starting to ache and his insides prickled.

"Truthfully?" the old man sighed. "Business is slow. I have no one to give deliveries and as such, I'm losing a lot of prestigious customers. I feel that your young friend could aid me in that regard. The errands would only be a one day a week job, and inventory every two weeks. I'd pay and give discounts. If –after a few months –my sales have not improved then I can let him go."

Draco swallowed. "I'll let you know what he says."

"Good. Now shall we join your friend?"

Draco inclined his head, leaning on his cane as he made his way out of the office.

Ollivander didn't follow Draco. He claimed he needed to go into his residence at the very back of the shop, leaving the two young men alone.

Ollivander didn't follow Draco. He claimed he needed to go into his residence at the very back of the shop, leaving the two young men alone. Harry was crouched down, his glasses pushed up high on his nose as he read the labels of various brown tinted bottles on a low shelf by the spiral staircase. Upon noticing Draco, he turned his head and smiled. "Hi –is everything okay with your order?"

"Yes, fine, thank you."

Harry frowned at the clipped tone. "I've not complicated things by being here have I?"

Draco peered up questioningly before shaking his head. "Oh no! Nothing like that, don't worry." Moving closer, Draco rested a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "So have you seen anything you think might help with your studies?" Ollivander's offer danced on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to voice it –not just yet.

"It's hard to tell," Harry flushed a little. "There are so many herbs here and –well –I need to smell some of them to know."

"Well I'm sure we can sniff a few."

"Won't Mr. Ollivander mind?"

"Oh, we're only having a sniff," Draco chuckled. "As long as we don't spill anything."

"Okay," Harry turned his eyes on the rows upon rows of bottles and vials. "Um … how about … this one?"

He plucked one from the shelf.

The label read 'WORMWOOD'.

Harry popped the stopper and took a deep breath –and coughed. "Oh gosh, no!" he choked, replacing the stopper and wiping a tear from his eye. "No, no, no –dreadful stuff!"

Draco chuckled. "Try another one."

"Okay…" Harry bit his lip, eyes scanning the shelves in front of him. "What about this one? 'Willowweed'."

"Give it a go."

Harry popped the cork and held the bottle up to his nose. The aroma was sickeningly sweet and seemed to reach up his nose to tickle his brain. It felt … uncomfortable. "Oh Gosh –No! That one … makes me feel weird!"

"Okay not that one either," Draco smirked, replacing the corked bottle back on the shelf. "How about third time lucky?"

"Are you sure?"

"Might as well. Since we're here."

Harry felt like a kid in a candy store. His eyes roamed over all the glass bottles until they landed on one in the far corner of the bottom shelf. The glass was smoked black with a small purple ribbon tied limply around the neck. "What's that one?" Harry murmured as he plucked the bottle from the shelf. The label was a little worn, but he was able to read the calligraphy when he held it up to the light.

"What have you got there?" Draco asked, his voice low and husky in Harry's ear.

It made his stomach flip.

"I … I uh … don't really know."

He popped the cork and –time stopped.

This was IT! THIS was what he'd been searching for!

Drawing in long, deep breaths of the flowery aroma, he felt fear, pain and aches disappear into a distant memory. He was all too aware of Draco's hot hands burning through his clothes on his back, the feel of his hip pressed against Harry's thigh –the way his breath rushed over the nape of his neck.

"D-Draco?"

"Yes Harry?"

There it was again. That low, growling voice. It made his insides stutter and flare like a fire being brought back to life. Turning around to face the blonde man, his breath hitched. He felt as though his heart and lungs couldn't function anymore. A tremor ran down his spine. "I … Draco I …"

"Tell me." Draco hooked his finger under Harry's chin, leaning closer so that he could smell the aftershave balm tainting the brunette's skin.

"I … Can I …?"

"Tell me, Harry. What do you need?"

Harry swallowed thickly before reacting. He grabbed a handful of Draco's silk waistcoat and tugged their bodies closer. His senses were mad for the blonde man in front of him; everything was overwhelmed by 'Draco'. He could smell him, hear him, feel him, and now he just needed to –

Draco was momentarily surprised when Harry kissed him. It was hot, urgent and completely without fear. He wrapped an arm around the young man's back, trapping him in the kiss. His free hand threaded through the tight waves of black hair, clutching at it, his mouth greedily accepting the hungry kisses Harry lavished upon him. "Mmm! Harry, Harry, Harry! Stop!" he urged, his own mouth refusing to acknowledge the danger of being caught as he continued to nip at Harry's red lips. "Later!" he growled out, forcing himself to step back. "Wait a little longer. Let's pay and go home."

Harry panted, his pupils dilated with lust as he looked up at Draco without seeing him. Eventually, he drew in a deep breath and nodded.

Straightening himself up, Draco took the small black bottle from Harry's end and called Ollivander out from the back office so that he could pay. Once everything was all paid and packaged up into the briefcase, Draco dragged his companion out of the shop and marched him through the blackened streets of London towards his abode.

Harry didn't complain.

He was more than happy to be dragged back to Draco's place, for as soon as the front door was slammed shut and the case of bottles tossed beside the coat rack, he found himself pinned up against the rough wood with Draco clawing at his clothes, mouth and teeth biting, kissing and licking as much of the exposed skin as he could reach. It wasn't enough, though.

"Draco!" Harry gushed out, red-faced and breathing heavily. He trapped the blonde's face between his hands, staring deeply into those dark, lust-filled eyes. "Draco … take me."

"Take you where?" the blonde growled.

"I don't give a fuck where, Draco, I just need you to take me. Now!"

Neither was sure which of them had growled out. All Harry was aware of was the heat, the strength and the ferocity with which they wrestled each other up the stairs to the master bedchamber. Clothes were ripped, buttons skittered across the wooden floorboards and the rest was lost in a filthy, hot, dark mess of sweaty skin, blood, sex, and the most painfully blissful fucking either man had ever had.


	12. 26th September 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Wednesday 26th September 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

Harry woke up to bliss for the fifth day in a row.

He'd never known how liquidised the human body could feel in the throes of passion. Sleep was nothing but a welcome darkness that snuck in when his body was utterly and completely exhausted beyond respite. This particular day had been a slow build-up, burning away sleep at the furthest corners of his mind, sensations ebbing into each muscle as he finally cracked an eyelid open. Upon squinting down at the rumpled bedclothes, his stomach jolted as he watched the red, swollen lips swallow him whole –and the guttural moan filled the bedchamber.

Between his raised knees, Draco's mouth worked miracles before the full weight of his body crushed down on top of Harry, knocking the air from his lungs before his grunts and moans were silenced by the blonde man's greedy mouth.

To Harry, it was heaven.

He was more than desperate to have more of the older man, even having the strong, pale naked muscles pressed roughly against him, gyrating against his hips with his hot, throbbing member slicking a wet trail against the brunette's stomach. To be able to rut up against the man like a slobbering mutt was … incredibly arousing! He couldn't understand it!

How had they done this for nearly five days straight?

Harry was in awe as Draco peppered his body with enough bite marks to resemble a deadly epidemic. Every time those teeth grazed his skin, Harry found himself arching quickly into the touch –almost like he'd been struck by lightning. Raking his hands through Draco's blonde hair, he rubbed himself feverishly against the other man's member, already aching for more and –at the same time –wanting to drag their activities out for as long as possible before they were called down for breakfast.

"You're finally awake?" Draco smirked, taking Harry's hands out of his hair and pinning them up on either side of his head. Harry grunted through a grin as the blonde man sat up and hooked his hips over his own. "So, we have some time before breakfast is ready –what would you have me do to you?"

"Ohh I don't know!" Harry blushed, his eyes never properly focusing on the man looming over him. "I just –Gosh! I'm still new to this!"

Draco smirked wickedly, delighting in how innocent the younger man was. Oh, but he had a wonderful body to play with –a little thin perhaps –but he was agile and that was more than enough to keep the blonde interested enough. "There's no need to be shy with me," he crooned, gently cupping Harry's cheek in his own. "I've been inside you, after all."

Harry's cheeks flared bright pink, making Draco chuckle.

"So? What do you want from me?"

"D-Draco …"

"All you have to do is tell me," he grinned, flashing his white teeth.

"I … I don't know!"

"I think you do," Draco purred, running the tip of his tongue around Harry's nipple. Muscles tensed underneath him as Harry's breath hitched. "So you're either going to tell me –or I'm not going to let you out of this bed until you  _beg_  me to."

Harry laughed nervously, shielding his face with his hands. "You're so cruel, Draco!"

"Cruel?" The blonde man crawled up until he was bracing himself over Harry's head, the brunette's legs bent awkwardly between their bodies. "I'd never be cruel to you," he purred, raking his long, pale fingers down the length of Harry's throat. "I just like having some fun with you."

"Your idea of fun is very rough and twice as dirty."

"Were you complaining last night?" he smirked, nipping at Harry's earlobe with his teeth.

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"

Laughter rang out through the room as Draco continued to nibble and tease at the sensitive tanned man stretched out beneath him. Burying his nose in the crook of Harry's neck he inhaled the scent that had soaked into both their skin from their bath the previous evening. It made his insides cramp with pleasure. He'd managed to scrounge enough of the herbs into the hot bath and as soon as both of them were in the water –all form of animalistic cravings inside them were let loose.

Harry didn't understand how the herbs were able to do such a thing but he wasn't about to complain –not yet at least.

 

 

After their amorous activities, they dressed and went down to breakfast. Harry was able to eat a larger helping of food this time round, whereas Draco seemed to still be humming from their torrid bedroom antics. He only took some herbal tea and some oatcake –not very filling but he insisted that he'd be fine.

"Are you sure you want to work the entire morning with just that little bit of cake inside you?" Harry asked, his brows knitted into a frown as Draco stood and made to leave.

The blonde man arched a perfect eyebrow before leaning down close to the younger man, close enough for his blonde hair to tickle Harry's cheek. "I'd rather be inside you," he growled. A tremor ran through Harry as a hand came down on his shoulder. "Alas, I must bid you adieu. I have errands to run and you have more studying to do. You have the entire case of vials to sort through still. They'll be going to Snape's office tomorrow night, so make sure you use your time well."

Harry bit back a smile. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy." He secured his cane between his hands, turned on his heel and strode from the room. "Make sure you write up your notes coherently!" he called over his shoulder. "I want to make sure they're legible before you showcase your findings!"

Harry shook his head a little. The tea was indeed almost too sweet for his senses, but he powered through three more cups –it was almost addictive –before finally tossing down his napkin and making his way up to the study to take another look at the herbs from Mr. Ollivander. In the light of day, with every bottle set out across Draco's desk –the task suddenly seemed rather daunting. There were over thirty bottles! Surely some of them he could dismiss without sniffing them? His Papa worked with numerous herbs as it was, there was no need to smell the ones he was already familiar with.

Unfortunately, even weeding out the bottle he knew the contents of, he was still left with eighteen to go through.

Grabbing his notebook and a quill, he drew in a deep breath and started going through the bottles. The first one had a label that read 'KNOTGRASS'. He popped the cork and sniffed at the spindly plant inside and noted –nothing. He had no adverse reaction to this weed. With a frown, he placed the bottle to one side, scribbled a quick note in his book and reached for the second bottle in line.

' _This is going to be boring_ ,' he thought to himself, already eyeing the other bottles and vials with disdain. ' _Oh well, it'll be over within the hour_ '.

That thought, however, did little to console him.

The next bottle read 'NUX MYRISTICA'. Grimacing, he popped the cork and –sneezed!

"NUTMEG?" he choked, as he shoved the bottle away. "Who the hell uses nutmeg in medicine?" It was a foolish question, for his own Papa would often give small satchets of the powdered root to be used by his patients.

He made another note –literally translating the Latin label to it's English meaning.

"Useless people not identifying their own stock," he grumbled as he waded through the rest of the bottles.

Within the hour, as he'd predicted, he came down to the small black bottle once again. Judging from it's contents there was only a small amount of this herb left so there was no need for him to crush any, or rub anything on his gums –some of which had left a bitter aftertaste that no amount of tea or water had been able to get rid of. Not like this last one. No, this was the one that was strangely calming. It was like a soft, sickly sweet perfume that soaked deep into the nervous system.

The label was still quite faded. It began with an 'A' –but he needed to carry it over into the sunlight to be able to read the worn letters.

"A … ACON … I … ITE. Aconite!" His face split into a triumphant grin. "Aconite! Great! Now … Oh, dear." He bit his bottom lip and frowned. Aconite was a plant that had slowly but surely been restricting to growing in Northern England and Scotland. It was particularly hard to come by.

Harry couldn't use this for his studies! What would happen if Snape needed some urgently? He'd probably ship Harry up to Scotland itself to harvest as much of the plant as possible. A shudder racked through his body. "I don't really want to do that," he sighed to himself. Casting a look at the blackened glass, he sighed and went over to drop himself into the armchair. It creaked under his weight.

The heady aroma teased at the periphery of his senses.

He tried to ignore it but –it kept creeping in!

He knew he'd smelled that aroma somewhere before. Almost constantly infact. Where –had that been?

A knock came at the door.

"Come in!" he called.

"Pardon the intrusion, sir, but would you like a cup of tea?" the middle-aged maid asked.

"I … yes that would be lovely thank you."

Waddling over to the table beside his chair, the maid quickly poured a cup of tea, milk and no sugar, before bowing out and shutting the door quietly behind her. The silence was almost over-whelming as the life continued on the streets outside the window. Birds chirped as a soft breeze blew through the trees. He was missing something vital, he knew that. The aroma still clung under his skin. Reaching up, he took a sip of the tea cooling on the table. It was sweet –hitting the back of his throat –but the effect was instant. He felt calm wash through him like honey.

Taking another sip he felt almost dreamy.

And then another … and another …

' _Something in the tea_ ,' his brain hummed, like a faraway echo. ' _There's something in the tea!_ '

Sitting bolt upright, he stared at the tea cup in his hands. It wasn't even warm. He'd been in such a daze for a long time, enough for the tea to grow cold in his hands. His bad arm started to quake a little as he licked his dried lips. "What … the hell …?"

Was he being … poisoned?

His throat tightened. What was going on here? Setting the cup to one side, Harry stroked his hair out of his eyes. His skin was started to grow clammy and sweaty. ' _Don't panic!_ ' his brain shrieked in his ear. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm not dying yet … okay, stay calm, stay calm, stay calm!" He launched himself out of the chair and started to pace the hearth. What the hell was going on? Had Draco been poisoning his tea? Why? Why would such a pragmatic man do such a thing?

Not knowing was killing him.

' _Find out what's in the teabags!_ ' his brain screamed through the panicking, white noise. ' _Go down into the kitchens and find out what's in them!_ '

The kitchens were cool and empty. Luckily for him, Draco likes to keep his place overly organised. Within ten minutes Harry found the cupboard that had all the tea, coffee and other herbs that could possibly be needed in ones diet. He pried open the ceramic jar labelled 'TEA' but as soon as he held one up to his nose –he frowned. They smelled like regular tea bags. So … what were they putting in his tea? Biting on his bottom lip, he frowned and rummaged through the rest of the cupboard. He could smell a faint hint of that aroma –drawing him nearer. It was definitely coming from the same place. Eventually he pulled out a small wooden box. It didn't have a label, unlike the many other items.

Strange.

Popping the lid off, Harry was hit with a pungent wave of the odour. It wasn't unpleasant just … too much of a good thing. It looked familiar. Pouring some into his palm Harry turned from the kitchen and returned to the study. On the desk, under the lamplight, both the herb used for his tea and the one from the black bottle were … exactly the same.

His insides cramped.

He threw up the contents of his stomach into the empty grate.

Cuffing the back of his mouth on his shirt sleeve, Harry let out a low breath and decided that there was only one thing he could do before Draco got back that evening. He needed to go and get some answers from Snape. He wasn't even completely sure he could trust the sour professor but … he knew Draco better than anyone.

He was the only one who would know the answers.

 

 

~0~

 

 

Snape was writing up some notes in his low-lit office in the lower level offices of the hospital. He preferred the silence that often unnerved the other faculty members and the entire student body. The only people who braved it down there were the men who worked in the boiler room, and that was usually just to toss unclaimed bodies into the furnace. When a knock came from the windowless door, he merely drew his eyes slowly from the document he was working on. Literally nothing could surprised at this point in his life.

Sighing under his breath, he popped his quill back into the inkwell and droned, "Come in." The door creaked open and admitted the last person he expected on a Wednesday –or any –night. Straightening back in his chair, he quirked a dark eyebrow. "Mister Potter, what can I do for you?"

The young bespectacled boy braved a few steps into the room, closed the door behind him, and stood to attention. "I … I need your help identifying a substance and its general properties."

Snape suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. With a stiff hand, he beckoned for the item in question. A small paper packet was placed on his desk. With lips pursed into a tight line, he tipped the contents out onto his ledger and, after a brief moment of poking and sniffing, he leaned back in his chair and cast an unamused look at his student.

"This is what you're disturbing me for?" he drawled.

Harry nodded. "Aconite, yes sir."

"Why is it so important for you to know the properties of this herb, Mister Potter?"

Harry pressed his lips together. His bad arm trembled a little as he gripped the vacant chair for support. He didn't bother to seat himself. "I … Feel that this plant could help me in my studies and for my thesis I just need to know as much as possible about what it is and can potentially do for patients."

"Well that would depend."

"On what?"

"On what your patients are suffering with."

"Considering our topic of study is generally lycanthropy, professor, that seems a fairly invalid question."

"Perhaps," Snape nodded. "However, we have also studied other creatures, such a daemons and vampires, have we not?"

"Neither of those holds any interest for me, sir," Harry admitted, his eyes downcast. He didn't like to admit his own morbid curiousity for the macabre creature. Whenever his arm itched it reminded him of that traumatic night and how, if he was ever in need of a cure by the next full moon, he'd have it on hand.

Snape didn't respond right away. He narrowed his dark eyes and leaned even further back in his chair until his shoulders were pressed up against the rough wood. "I may have a book that could help you with his particular direction of study." He stood up from his chair, towering over everything in the room like a grim figure lurked over the beds of the elderly. He drifted over to his bookshelf and withdrew a small book. It had thick yellowed pages and looked fairly stained and worse for wear. Harry dreaded to think how faded the ink within would be. As Snape brought the textbook back over to the desk the younger man noted that it was bounded in dark purple leather, rusted studs in the corners with faded gilt writing embossed on the cover.

"That's a rather old book, sir," Harry managed to croak. "Are you sure I'll be able to find what I need in there?"

"Quite sure," Snape drawled. He pushed the book over towards Harry with one long, bony finger. "In here are the names of herbs and plants –some long since extinct or hard to find –along with their names, meanings, and various ways to use them. I think it will benefit you to experiment with them."

"You mean like … making my own medicines?"

"Medicines, draughts, poultices or balms, yes."

"How will I know if any of them work?"

"You have a wound don't you?" Snape bit out. "Why not test some on that and see if it works?"

"On my arm?" Harry paled. "But I … No! I can't! What if it gets worse?"

"Worse than not healing at all?"

"I … I um …"

"You cannot become a doctor of medicine if you fail before you even try," Snape stated in his 'classroom voice' –a voice so loud and commanding that it drowned everything else out. He sat himself back down at his desk and bent his head over his neglected documents.

Harry took that as his cue to leave.

Straightening down his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, he gingerly reached out and took the textbook from the desk. It was heavier than it looked and the pages inside were indeed thick, yellow and had all manner of stains on the edges. His heart did a strange little twist as he ran his thumb over the faded gilt words. Was this the book he'd been searching for in the library all that time ago?

Tucking the book under his arm, he made his way across the room and after some awkward jiggling, managed to get the stiff door free and pull it open. As he was leaving, Snape's voice caught him before he's completely disappeared through the door.

"Mister Potter where exactly did you come across this much Aconite? You do realise it doesn't grow in the London area."

"Y-Yes sir, I'm aware of that."

"Then where did you get it?"

"Well … there was some in the order you placed at Ollivanders but he only had a small bottle left."

"And the rest?"

"I … well … I don't really know that it's my place to say, sir."

"Mister Potter, if you haven't noticed by now my methods of teaching and acquiring a fair number of our test subjects haven't exactly been orthodox methods, so spare me your melancholy dramatics and answer the question!"

"Well sir … I found some at Mr. Malfoy's residence."

"You found it?" the professor drawled, the disbelief etched into those cold, hard eyes.

"Y-yes sir. In the kitchen."

"Why on earth would it be there?" he sneered.

Harry shrugged, hugging the textbook to his chest and backing up through the door. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could feel his clammy skin sweating. Even the pores on his bad arm seemed to gape open, exuding sweat and grime from within his body. His gut twisted. "I … I couldn't say sir," his voice cracked under the pressure of breathing. His vision blurred a little and black spots started to pop before his eyes. "I … I think … b-being used in … the tea …"

"The tea?"

"I'm sorry sir but I really must go!" he gushed out, trying desperately not to vomit in his professor's office. He's already ruined one fireplace he didn't need to start spewing his guts up on everyone's hearth. Turning his back on the vaguely surprised look on Snape's face, Harry sprinted as fast as his unstable legs would permit. It wasn't that he was worried about implicating Draco, he was sure the blonde man had answers for this findings –he just really needed some breathable air!

Once in the courtyard, having caught his breath and cooled his burning muscles, cold sweat slicking the back of his neck, Harry swiped his black fringe out of his eyes and pulled the textbook out from under his arm. It was almost stuck to him. Leaning back against the cool stone of the building, he opened the front cover and leafed through a few pages before coming to a paragraph that peaked his interest.

' _There are over two hundred and fifty types of Aconitum, the three main ones being Wolfsbane, monkswood and aconite that now only grow in wild places. Aconitum species are a small trumpet-shaped plant that is highly toxic to both humans and animals, though recently they have been successfully used in medicines for pain relief, heart sedatives, and to induce swelling._

_The flowers of the plant have healing properties and can be used for medicinal purposes, however it is the leaves of the plant that are highly toxic and should be avoided, unless for the purpose of poisoning. The roots of the plant can also be used as an ingredient of medicines, though none have been successful to date.'_

"The leaves are poison?" Harry gasped, his hand darting to his trouser pocket. In there he felt something dried and crisp. Under the lamplight in his palm, he squinted down and saw the remnants of what he's given to Snape. The herbs from Draco's tea box were almost too dry to make out the colour –but they weren't sharp or pointed like the leaves in the book.

No –there were only the flowers.

Eyes darting back to the book, Harry reread the paragraph and felt his stuttering heart calm down a little. Only the leaves were poison. Relief washed through his body. Wiping his hand down on his trousers, he closed the book, tucked it under his arm and started to make his way to the open street. Harry's relief didn't last too long though. As he walked through the austere streets, cold sweat clinging to his limbs like a second, irritating skin, another thought entered his mind that echoed louder than his own footsteps.

_The aconite was in the tea.  
_

Thought the rational part of his mind concluded that it may have simply been for pain relief, something that clearly both young men were in dire need of, but the softer, darker thoughts wouldn't let that be the clear-cut answer.

_The aconite was in the tea._

Why did Harry feel the addiction to drink so much? Was it truly to purge himself of the pain inflicted upon him by that Hell beast?

_The aconite was in the tea._

Perhaps there was another reason. Harry stopped short under a large oak tree, wiping the sweat from his upper lip. His throat was dry, his heart beating uncomfortably. What if there was another reason? A darker reason? A reason that was too painful to even think about let alone say out loud? It wasn't as though Draco had told him what he was drinking after all. Clearly he was only drinking it, too, so as not to arouse suspicion.

_The aconite was in the tea._

"W-wolfsbane ..." Harry let the word tumble from his mouth in a broken whisper. Panic, dread, pain and reality started to wrack his body, the ground unhinged from under his feet as he collapsed back against the rough bark of the tree, the Thames turning into a glittering snake, twisting and writhing through his blurred vision as he dropped. "He … H-he thinks I'm the wolf …"

Cupping his throbbing head in his hands, he let the tears come thick and fast, letting them burn trails down his numb cheeks.

"H-he thinks I-I'm the w-wolf?!"

Throughout the quiet, dark streets of London a cry was heard that would rip the soul to pieces. It wasn't, however, the cries they'd dreaded to hear of a savage beast claiming another victim. No; this time it was the cry of a young boy in desperate need of his Papa.


	13. 30th September 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Sunday 30th September 1888_ ** _  
_

**_~0~_ **

 

 

Harry was surprised that he received a letter that morning, instructing him to be at the hospital for another lesson. Considering Snape had travelled up to Scotland the morning after Harry had gotten information about the plants he'd found. The summons was peculiar. Who was going to be teaching the class with Snape out of London? Did another unscheduled class mean that … something else had happened? Harry hadn't been sure if he was even going to bother attending; most of his notes hadn't been written up neatly in his presentation journal –the finalised findings that he'd present to Snape at the end of the course.

He surprised himself when he found himself walking through the large wooden doors of the theatre. He pressed his lips together, breathed deeply and made his way down the aisle towards his usual bench at the front. On the raised platform there were two gurneys with two bodies hidden under starched sheets.

Harry felt his insides lurch.

"What … on earth is going on?" Harry murmured to himself as he sank down into the hard seat, the shuffling of the other young men finding their spots. Upon seeing the two covered bodies, their hushed tones magnified throughout the cavernous room.

"Who's taking this class?" Neville asked.

"I have no idea," Thomas replied, helplessly.

Harry felt his wound starting to itch under his bandages. He'd been hiding out at his old place for the last few days since his little 'discovery'. He'd had to coop himself up, like a hen in a hut, and hadn't been able to go out and get new dressings or ointments for his wound. It seemed to be getting worse with the more stress he put himself under. There was nothing he could do about it. The last time he'd gone outside, he'd almost bumped into Draco. He'd had to run and hide in a nearby shop and weave his way through the crowd so as not to be spotted. It had been hard but eventually he'd made it back home.

He hadn't spoken to the blonde man since the morning of his discovery.

A part of him felt bad for the silence he'd instilled upon their strange, budding infatuation. However, the other part of him was glad. He deserved to be isolated. Whatever was going on was sure to reveal itself within the next few days –until then he needed to focus on the two bodies lying before him on the operating tables.

The door to the main hallway banged open.

Despite being right at the front and able to hear the footsteps approaching, Harry still startled worse than Neville. His body was stewing in his own grime, sweat and odour. It was repugnant –but thankfully no one else had seemed to comment on it within earshot.

Through the doorway waddled a large, round man with horn-rimmed glasses perched on his bulbous nose and his thin greying hair clinging to his scalp like a cloud. "Good evening gentlemen. As Professor Snape is out on assignment for the next week or so, I shall be leading you in this case he informed me about."

"I'm sorry, sir, but who are you?" Neville asked.

"I am Dr. Slughorn and I'll be leading you through this autopsy tonight."

"What's happened?" Blaise asked.

"Another two bodies have turned up with similar wounds as the other prostitutes from the last two months."

"Why do we need to dissect them?" Thomas asked. "Isn't it obvious we won't find anything new in these two corpses? Why must we desecrate them in this fashion?"

"I do not question Professor Snape's motives, I simply do as he's instructed me," Slughorn stated, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm merely here as an official witness to these proceedings."

Casting a look around at his classmates, Harry reluctantly sighed, scratched at his wounded arm before standing up and making his way towards the back of the operating platform. The other six men followed suit, as they dressed in the rubber aprons and gloves. The bodies were in a much more grotesque state than the previous victims –at the very least the one labelled 'LONG LIZ' was much the same as the others.

It was the second victim that was in a horrifying state.

The two small, airless breasts lay flat and wrinkling on her chest, sagging slightly on either side. There was a greenish discoloration across her abdomen and the rough-handed stitching running up her body was like wires pulling old, wrinkles hides together in a rumpled line. Harry blanched as he looked up at the woman's face; there was a deep cut across her face running right down in an angle over the jaw on the right side of her cheek. The cut went through the bone and divided all the structures of her cheek, except the membrane of the mouth. The tip of her nose was hanging on by a few thin strands of flesh, another cut having severed straight through and split through the top lip. The skin on her cheeks flapped listlessly, like grey leather wings.

Neville had to run to the sink and throw up at the large, thick slab of greying skin that moved too easily from a deep gash running from the inner left thigh, up to her labia. Harry didn't blame him –he felt quite sick too.

"Well?" Slughorn's voice broke through their horrified trance. "Get to work. Unpick those stitches and take a look inside."

"Is it me or is he far too excited for this?" Blaise murmured darkly.

"Maybe a little," Harry replied under his breath.

"Who wants to do the honours?" Blaise goaded, scalpel aloft in his hand.

"Why don't you do it?" Thomas hissed.

The dark man shrugged his shoulders before poking the sharp blade through a loose hole in the sewn-up skin –and gently working it through the rough stitches. Pus oozed from the wound, the foul small pervading the air causing them all to choke. It was like rotting meat and piss. Powering through the nausea swelling inside him, Harry aided Blaise in cutting the last of the stitches and peeling away the grimy, grey slabs of skin. They smacked down on either side of the corpse, the milky white of her eyes staring up through her bloodied eyelids –or what was left of them.

With quaking hands, Thomas removed the detached ribcage and stomach, placing them to one side. If anything, moving the internal organs seems to make the smell gush out of the corpse like a noxious gas.

"What –do you see?" Neville asked from his spot by the sink. He looked a sickly green colour his arm wrapped limpy around his stomach. A sheen of sweat glossed his brow.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry returned his attention to the innards of the corpse. "It … appears as though some of the colon is missing."

"How much?"

"About … one … maybe two feet."

Blaise clenched his jaw tightly before pointing a gloved hand lower. "Look there. The left kidney is gone. These cuts were done with a clean precise knife but whoever did it had a lot of time on his hands. Otherwise he wouldn't have bothered in cutting her eyelids."

"Why would a wolf need a kidney?" Thomas asked.

"Perhaps it wasn't the wolf. Perhaps this is from that 'killer' that's in the papers. The one who's getting all the credit for these crimes."

Harry shrugged. "Well all the wolf did was bite them. This man is in fact killing them."

"They're mercy killings!" Blaise protested.

"Okay. They're still dead."

Blaise scoffed but didn't object. It was sound logic after-all. They had been working on all the corpses relating to this particular case –there was no denying any of it. Sighing, he went back to work examining the lower abdominals for further oddities. "This is so strange," he finally murmured. "Nothing else seems to be greatly injured. The cut on her throat was the obvious cause of death; she was probably bleeding out whilst he cut out her kidney."

"But who would need a kidney? For what purpose?" Neville asked weakly.

"Well when one of us meets this esteemed killer, we'll ask him, shall we?" Blaise sneered.

Neville clamped his mouth shut and remained silent.

"Don't go on at him," Harry stated in a calm voice. "The only reason any of us seem safe right now it because this killer seems to target women –namely women of ill-repute or ones who frequently drink."

"That's not all, it would seem," Blaise muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"This man seems to have some medical knowledge."

"How can you be sure?"

"Whoever targeted this woman knew as sure as you or I, where to locate a human kidney," the dark man stated. With the scalpel he prodded weakly at the dried out innards where the knife wounds had torn through the flesh. "See here and here? These are fairly clean wounds. No random hacking or callousness like you'd see from a butchering."

"So … this may be the work of a begrudged medical student?"

"Possibly," Blaise muttered. "Or a medical professor."

A hush fell throughout the hall.

"What are you insinuating young man?" Slughorn's voice cried out, sounding eerily loud in the silent hall. "Are you implying that an esteemed member of the board of doctors has committed these atrocious crimes?"

"Well sir it does stand to reason –"

"I won't hear another word of this!" the rotund man snapped, smacking his book on the wooden podium. "No member of this board is capable of such horrors! We take a sacred oath to heal and protect members of society! We do not kill them for no reason!"

"Sir, if someone feels they are aiding society –"

"NOT ANOTHER WORD, ZABINI!" Slughorn sneered. "One more accusation out of your mouth and you'll be dismissed from these lectures!"

The threat hung in the stale air.

"With all due respect, sir, we have an obligation to report any findings to the police in order to aid their investigation," the dark man stated in a chillingly calm manner.

"Well, if that's the case, Zabini, you'll have a lot of time after tonight since you'll no longer be welcome to participate in these studies."

"You don't have the authority to do that!"

"Professor Snape put me in charge, so I think you'll find that I do."

"I make my payments to Professor Severus Snape," Blaise stated, advancing on the red-faced round man with thinning blonde hair. "So, for the time being I shan't attend these lectures. However, as soon as Snape is standing back behind that podium, you mark my words I shall be back."

Slughorn scoffed and shook his head, "I'd like to see you try."

Blaise narrowed his eyes in disgust, threw down his rubber gloves and apron inside the corpses gaping gut, before storming up to his seat. Retrieving his belongings he made his way to the main doors and slammed them loudly on the way out. The rest of the six men –Harry included –stared after him in shock. Had …that really just happened? Blaise knew too much, and was one of the ones who had the more logical theories on the matter. He could expose all of what they knew to the public. He could expose everything that the hospital –and Snape –were doing. Most of it wasn't even legal to begin with.

Casting glances around at the other five, Harry sucked in a shallow breath and gently prodded at the mangled woman before him. There was a silent agreement around the table; they needed to sew the body back up and leave as soon as possible before anyone else was dismissed.

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

The clock struck 1AM in the courtyard.

The remaining six young men hunched their shoulders against the cool breeze. No one said anything as they hurried along through the gates and went their separate ways home. Harry was dreading returning home to his cold lodgings. The dodgy little brass bolt on the bedroom door would hardly suffice against this crazy killer. The maniac was clearly upping his game and Harry felt sick with fear as he made his way along the streets towards his building.

Most houses were silent, the windows blacked out as the night wore on. All was quiet in the surrounding streets. Harry's on footsteps were magnified in his own ears as he cradled his injured arm to his chest. The smell of the formaldehyde and the pus that had leaked out onto their gloves seemed to have stained through the rubber and onto his hands. He knew he was being paranoid but he could still  _smell_  it. It made his gag reflex lurch up, tightening his throat.

"Just get home, lock the door and you'll be fine," he murmured to himself.

Thankfully, he managed to make his way up to his own room without any incident, panic attacks or suspicious footsteps following him through the backstreets. His key echoed as it turned in the lock, his satchel digging heavily into his shoulders, before he pushed his weight against the door. It creaked loudly as it swung inwards. As he'd predicted, like every other night, the room was quiet, empty and had a chill festering in the darkness.

"You're finally home then?"

Harry let out a cry of panic as a match hissed to life. He scrambled with the door, his hands unable to work the lock or the door handle. Two strong arms wrapped around his waist and rocked him gently from side-to-side as he struggled.

"It's okay, Harry," the familiar voice crooned. "It's just me, calm down. Breathe –in … and out … in … and out …"

Tears of fear dribbled out of his eyes, steaming up his glasses as pressed his forehead so hard against the wooden door he was sure he'd go through it. He hunched over, his chest tight as he gasped desperately for air. Slowly, sensation ebbed back into his body. He was suddenly aware of his chipped nails digging into the wood of the door. His stomach uncramped and he mentally thanked God for not letting him piss himself.

"Harry?"

"Fuck you!" the brunette snapped, shoving the older man off of him and whipping around to sneer at him. "What the hell is wrong with you? You can't just break into my room and not expect me to panic!"

"I didn't mean to startle you –"

"I'm not done!" Harry yelled. He advanced a few steps. "What do you think you're achieving here? I have to deal with dead women and corpses and the constant fear of nearly bumping into a murderer –you can't expect me to welcome you with open arms! You're lucky I don't carry a knife for my own protection!"

Draco waited patiently in the middle of the room, his hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the younger man's temper to abate before saying anything else. Harry paced back and forth for a while, his heart hammering in his ears as he raked his sweaty hair out of his eyes. He could literally smell his own fear pheromones staining his skin. It was a good thing it wasn't another full moon yet, otherwise he'd have been easy prey for the were-beast. After about ten minutes –and a thorough examination of his rooms –he was able to determine that there was no immediate threat on his life. He took his time and retrieved his satchel from where he'd flung it across the room in a panic. Thankfully, nothing has been broken or stained his journals.

Setting his belongings aside, Harry turned with a strained expression to the blonde man standing before him. "So? Why are you here?" he asked tightly.

"It's been about three days since I last saw you. I wanted an explanation for your sudden departure –and I'd like to know why you made such a mess in my kitchen on the way out."

"Your … oh," Harry paled at the memory.

"Yes. ' _Oh'_ ," Draco repeated. "So, would you care to explain to me why you left so suddenly? And why you ransacked my cupboards?"

Harry clenched his jaw tightly but didn't respond.

"I mean, honestly Harry, if you were hungry all you needed to do was ask."

Through his damp glasses, Harry glared as the blonde man seated himself in the threadbare armchair beside the hearth. The air between them was quiet as Draco took some time to add kindling to the fire and struck a few matches, letting some old newpapers catch alight. Soon, warmth spread throughout the room, leeching the cold from their bones. Harry watched as the 'JACK THE RIPPER' headlines turned to ash before him.

"I didn't want to be around you," Harry stated tightly. "I still don't."

"Why not?" Draco asked, leaning back in his chair and quirking a blonde eyebrow. "What have I done to offend you?"

A quip was on the tip of Harry's tongue about all the sodomy they'd gotten up to over the last week. How he'd let Draco abuse and arouse his body was something that God would spit on them for. However, he swallowed his retort and shifted his weight from foot-to-foot. Draco watched him expectantly. Licking his lips, Harry let out a sigh. "I … I found out what you were putting in the tea, Draco."

"The aconite?"

Harry blanched but nodded. "Y-yes."

"And you panicked over this because …?"

"I did some research," Harry stated, seating himself on the edge of his bed. It was flimsy and sagged awkwardly under his weight but he didn't move. Any other place to sit was within close proximity to Draco –close enough to smell the soap that clung to his skin –and that was something he couldn't handle right at that moment. "I know what that herb is used for. I know it's used in rituals for … f-for …"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "For …?" he probed.

"For … w-werewolves."

Draco let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, dear Lord! That's the best thing I think I've heard all year!" He continued to laugh, actually having to dab at his eyes with a handkerchief. "Oh, my word. Oh! Harry –oh my I can't breathe!"

The younger man watched Draco laugh in his armchair, his body flushing with hot embarrassment. It rolled off him in waves and seemed to stink worse than the corpse he'd been elbow-deep in earlier. He waited for Draco's laughter to subside, before he decided to try and talk. "I don't need your condescention, Draco," he said bitterly. "I've read plenty of books and they all say the same things; this herb is used in the ritualistic curing or attempted curing of people suffering from a lycanthrophic disposition."

"Oh," Draco smirked through the firelight. "It's rather arousing when you talk like that."

"It arouses you when I talk like Snape?" Harry pulled a face.

Draco rolled his smoky eyes. "I meant in an authoritative way, but no matter. You've killed my spirits." He cocked his eyebrow again. "What else did you read about this herb?"

"T-that it can be used for helping with fevers, headaches, and stomach ailments."

"Did it ever occur to you that that was what it was for?" Draco coaxed.

"Well of course I did!" the brunette snapped. "However, considering all this treacherous barbarity going on and the fact that I was attacked –can you honestly blame me for jumping to that conclusion? That you wanted to cure me?"

"So what if that was the case?" Draco asked bemusedly. "Don't you want someone looking out for you and trying to help find a cure for you?"

"But I'm not –that's not –Draco, that's not what's going on here!"

"Harry the only thing going on here is that you made a drastic conclusion, a very deluded one at that –which I can only put down to the stress of these late night classes, your lack of sleep and our activities over the last week –and you've worked yourself up into such a horrid frenzy!"

Harry felt his jaw drop, his mouth working soundlessly.

With a sigh, Draco stood up from the armchair. He made his way over to the bed and settled down in a crouch in front of the younger man. He gripped Harry by the shoulders and looked him square in the eye. Harry leaned back with narrowed eyes, the firelight behind the blonde man throwing the pair of them in heavy shadows. "Harry, I need you to listen to me very carefully okay?"

Harry nodded.

"You are not a werewolf. Say it."

"I am not a werewolf."

"I was only scratched by a werewolf. I was not bitten."

Harry rolled his eyes and repeated the words in a monotone voice.

"Draco was  _not_  trying to poison me."

Harry glared but managed to trip over the words.

"Draco only uses the herbs for pragmatic medicinal purposes, like headaches and to calm his heart."

Harry didn't know why but he felt a swell of attachment flood through his chest. Draco had told him that he'd had many health issues and that Snape had helped provide the medical treatment throughout the years. Perhaps Draco was right? Maybe all the sleepless nights had warped his perception of medicine and their proper uses. At the very least, Professor Snape would be gone for the next two weeks. That should provide a reprieve for him and give him a chance for some much needed rest.

Swallowing past the dry lump in his throat, Harry felt his shoulders sag awkwardly in Draco's grip. "Can you forgive me Draco?" he asked, his eyes tearing up behind his glasses. He suddenly felt his eyeballs grow raw and scratchy in their sockets. "I never meant to accuse you of these things."

Draco gave his shoulders a squeeze. "I suppose I can forgive you. On one condition."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Let me take you back to my home. I promise we don't have to do anything your uncomfortable with. I just … I want to help you get some proper sleep."

"Wasn't the tea supposed to do that?" Harry quipped.

"It did, for a time. However natural sleep will aid you better, I think."

"How do you plan on accomplishing that?" Harry frowned.

"Come back with me and I'll show you."

Despite the stress his heart and mind had been under over the last couple of days Harry had to admit that the thought of sinking into a lavish bed –clean and freshened up –with Draco there to watch over him until he fell asleep, was an enticing proposition. Gathering up his satchel and journals, Harry decided to leave a low fire lit. He didn't need to come back to a freezing bedroom.

 

 

Following Draco down the narrow, dark staircases Harry was led out towards the cobbled streets. He kept close to the taller man, listening to his cane click-click-click against the stone before a large black carriage came into view at the end of the road two streets away. How had he never noticed it those other nights? Stepping up into the carriage, he felt his stomach lurch as Draco shut the door and the wheels creaked as the coach moved. They crossed through the streets and over the bridges towards the familiar, nicer streets where Draco resided.

Within the hour Harry had, as predicted, gotten a quick wash in a stone basin filled with hot, soapy water, a freshly laundered nightshirt and been tucked into the four-poster bed that he was starting to think of as 'his'. That was dangerous territory and he needed to remind himself not to wander down that road. It was hard not to, though, as Draco settled down on the edge of the bed, dressed in a nightshirt and a velvet robe.

"How're you feeling?" the older man asked. He pressed the back of his hand against Harry's forehead and hummed softly.

"Much better. I'm feeling quite t-tired …" he trailed off as a yawn cut him off.

Draco pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh, shh, shh. We can talk more tomorrow. You need to rest as much as possible over the next few days."

Harry wanted to protest, but Draco's finger pressed firmer against his mouth.

"I said 'no talking'," Draco smirked. He gently lifted Harry's glasses from the end of his nose and set them on the nightstand. "Get some rest, Harry. You've had an awfully long night."

Just as he was about to stand up and leave, Harry reached out and snatched at his wrist. "Wait!"

Draco waited, both eyebrows raised.

"Can you … stay and talk to me a little while?" he asked, meekly.

"Are you sure that won't keep you awake longer?" Draco asked with an amused smile.

"I … I just like listening to your voice," Harry admitted. He felt a blush tint his lips. "I think it'll help me sleep."

"So I bore you?"

"No!" Harry flushed.

"Calm down," Draco said, walking around the end of the four poster bed. The mattress dipped as the blonde man slid up onto the bed and gently threw a thick cover over his legs. There was really no need for so many layers, however the faint chill in the air was easily magnified in the large, stone house. "I'll stay as long as you need. Just relax."

Harry listened to Draco walk about nothing in particular; the news of the day, his favourite things to do in summer time when he'd been younger and any plans for the end of the year, nearer Christmas time. None of it was important and yet Harry let every word soak into his brain. Draco's voice washed over him more calming than any cup of tea he'd ever drunk. He wasn't sure when it happened, but he was sure he felt Draco's long, thin fingers threading through his mass of black hair. It was soothing and relaxed him into a state of comfort he'd never known. That, plus resting lightly against the blonde man's chest –all of it was the perfect combination to eased Harry into sleep.

 

When he finally felt the younger man's breathing relax and grow labored, Draco let out a soft breath. The faint aroma of aconite-tea still perfumed the air. Harry was relaxed around him now and that was the important thing. There was no need for him to worry about what the herbs were needed for any longer. Draco had said his piece and as far as he was concerned, the matter was closed. He didn't leave Harry's bedchamber that night. Instead, he got comfortable on the goose-feather pillows, eased the younger man into a more nestled position against his chest and continued to stroke his black hair.

Through the gap in the curtains, the rooftops were bathed in the silvery glow of the moon through the thin sheaf of clouds drifting in the breeze. He lie that way for a while watching as the sky lightened outside towards the first break of dawn.

Harry slept soundly on his chest.

That was all that mattered in that moment. Harry's health was his top concern.

There'd be a full moon in another two days –they'd have more mania to deal with then.


	14. 2nd October 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Tuesday 2nd October 1888_ ** _  
_

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

It was in the early hours of the morning that restlessness roused Harry from his sleep.

Cracking open an eyelid it took a little while before his brain remembered the events of the previous evening –rather, the early hours of the morning. His fuzzy vision made out the engraved pillars of the four poster bed holding up an elaborately embroidered velvet canopy. In any light, the curtains took his breath away. The mattress underneath him was plush and cushioned his aching joints perfectly. Had he really slept through the last twenty-four hours?

' _I guess I needed it after seeing that body_ ,' his sleepy brain mulled.

Harry shifted on his side and found that the expanse of mattress behind him was cool to the touch. His heart sank low in his chest. It made sense that Draco would retire to his bedchamber as promised. Harry couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed though. He wouldn't have minded waking up to a warm embrace.

' _Maybe if you want someone to hold you, you should go and ask for it_ ,' his brain stated, now more alert.

There was a certain logic to it. However, Harry had never been one to ask for such things. If something good happened then he'd be glad for it, and if something bad happened, he'd simply take it in stride. He'd never really been one to go out and manipulate his own destiny for personal gains.

Restlessness settled into his bones, and Harry let out a weary sigh. He needed to stretch his legs out a little before attempting to sleep again. It had been the same, even when he'd lived up North in the family's cottage. He'd go out in the early hours before dawn and wonder around the fields out back. As long as the cottage was in sight –he'd leave a candle in his bedroom window as a sort of beacon –he'd feel safe.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Harry had to shift himself forward a few inches until his feet touched the cold, wooden floorboards. Chilling tremors racked up his legs but he grit his teeth, blindly touching around for the slippers Draco loaned him. Once on, he slowly shuffled towards the door and eased the latch up.

The door creaked a little as he opened it.

The dark hallway beyond was still as expected.

Harry found that he was grateful for the slippers, not only because they kept his feet from freezing on the wooden floors, but also because they made his footsteps virtually soundless as he slipped out of his bedchamber. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end as he made his way towards the main landing –and suppressed a gasp. Up above his head there was a huge latticed window. He'd never paid it much heed before but now as he looked out at the Heavens stretched high above him, his heart lurched. The stars winked down at him, as though they knew something he did not. The moon was swollen –on the very precipice of being full.

' _One more day_ ,' his brain warned.

He itched at his bandaged arm. He truly couldn't believe that it hadn't started healing yet. With a frown he had to force his attention from the moon –how did it look so huge through that window? Was it some form of giant magnifying glass? –and made his way along the corridor towards Draco's bedchamber. As he left the brilliant moonlight behind him, Harry felt that he could breathe a little easier. The sooner the police caught up with that madman calling himself 'the Ripper' the sooner they'd all sleep a little better.

Once at Draco's door, Harry had to quieten his hammering heart before raising a hand to knock timidly. There was no answer or stirrings beyond, and he had to wonder if he had knocked too lightly. He tried again.

There was still no answer.

' _Well it is nearly dawn_ ,' his brain chided.

Harry knocked again, louder.

When there was still no reply, he decided that he had two choices; he could either go into the room and disturb Draco that way, or he could run back to his own bed like a coward with his tail between his legs, and hope that he never embarrassed himself like that again. He was rooted to the spot for a moment, his legs trembling with fear and the cold seeping into his skin. He always ran away from anything remotely exciting. He took a huge risk coming down to study in London in the first place. Despite his injuries and the horror's he'd seen –he knew he'd never trade any of those experiences for a calm, quiet life like his Papa.

Drawing in a determined breath, he raised the latch and went in.

The curtains were open, letting in the bright moonlight. It shone into the room, bathing everything in its ethereal glow. The fireplace stood white and proud, the soot-stained cavern within making it appear like a large mouth. The latticed windows created a dark pattern on the floorboards and rug. It fell upon the four-poster bed and exposed the empty mattress and cold blankets therein. Harry was both confused and worried at the bed. Where was Draco? What on earth would wake the blonde man up at such an hour?

' _Perhaps he couldn't sleep, just like you?_ ' he pondered.

Turning his back on the room Harry went in search of his companion. Where could he look first? The kitchen? The study? Pursing his lips, he decided to go through the rooms floor-by-floor, his hand trailing on the wall for a guide, leaving the moonlit landing behind.

The study was empty as was the dining hall and the kitchen. All of the rooms served no purpose other than making Harry's panic creep into his mind and slowly spiral out of control. Bracing himself back against the kitchen counter, he let out a sigh and chewed on his thumbnail, a habit he only really bothered with unless he was at his wit's end. That's when his eyes caught sight of the eerier glow coming from under –a wall? Standing up, Harry crossed the room and went over to the panel of wall that seemed as air-tight as the rest.

He knocked against the wood. It was hollow.

With a frown, Harry felt along the panel with his fingernails and finally felt a chill brush against his fingertips. There was a door there he was sure of it. Finally, his palm pressed against a smaller panel in the woodwork and the whole section of wall seemed to slide inwards. His heart in his throat, Harry continued to push his weight against the hidden door and felt it sag to the side. Beyond, a stone spiral staircase was exposed. It would have been pitch black inside if it hadn't been for the eerie golden glow rising from somewhere below.

' _Do I really need to go down there?_ ' Harry asked himself, feeling his insides twist.

' _Do you want to find Draco?_ ' his brain snapped.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Harry stepped through the doorway and slowly descended the spiral staircase. It was so tight, the stonework almost damp with the cold. It seemed to suck the air right out of his lungs. Why would Draco need to sneak down here during the Witching Hour? The slippers muffled his footsteps as the light grew brighter. He was nearing the end of the staircase.

The staircase ended in a narrow archway. Before him there was a two foot long stone hallway which opened out to a beautifully bricked circular room. It was huge –probably as large as the dining hall up above. It looked as though it had numerous alcoves spaced around the edges expanding the general size with five other, small rooms. Almost every shelf and hollow in the walls was filled with candles of varying sizes and heights. All were lit and dribbling cream coloured wax down the stonework.

Harry was in awe as he took in the bookshelves, the trunks, the vials and strings of herbs and bulbs of garlic hanging from the ceiling. This room looked like something Snape would desire in his own home. In the centre of the room there was the large copper bathtub that Harry himself had bathed in. Candles had been arranged in a circle around the base. Feeling conscious that this place was meant to be a hidden for a reason, Harry was about to back away and retreat up the staircase when a hand shot out of the bath.

His heart screamed in his ears.

The pale white arm was covered in a thick, opalescent goo that seemed to slide over the skin. It made bile race up Harry's throat. The nails of the hand were sharp, a dull purple colour and very long. His vision blurred in fear and he inwardly cursed himself for forgetting his glasses. Every part of his body seemed to paralyse with dread as he watched the rest of the body pull itself upright. The jaw seemed stronger and more muscular than he was used to on any human –and the way it opened exposing fangs … it was all too much!

Harry was dimly aware of the flagstones impacting with his skull as he passed out.

~0~

Consciousness crept upon him before memories of that night resurfaced.

Lurching upright, Harry panted for air, sweat staining his skin. Everything was sweet and sickly and made his head spin as he groped over the pillows for a goblet of water. What was going on? Where was he? How did he get back up to bed?

_"Hey, calm down it's okay."  
_

"NO!" he cried out, fighting weakly against the two strong arms that held him back, easing him awkwardly back onto the mattress. "Get off me! Demon! Demon!"

A hand clamped down around his mouth. "Keep your voice down!" Draco hissed in his ear. "People are trying to sleep!"

Harry struggled against it but Draco was far stronger than he was. Eventually he had to subside, lowering himself into the mattress, his muscles as stiff as stone as his eyes surveyed the room around him. Everything seemed normal, just as he'd left it earlier. Panting heavily against Draco's hand, Harry squinted around the room. The curtains were closed now so it was profoundly difficult to make anything out through the gloom. Snatching Draco's hand off his mouth, Harry upright much to the blonde's chagrin.

"How did you get me back up here?" Harry hissed.

"What?" Draco slurred. His voice was low and sluggish, as though he'd just been asleep. He hadn't though –how could he? The moon appeared to be high in the sky. Not much time had passed since Harry had found the underground room under the kitchen.

"How did you get me up here?" he repeated.

With a heavy sigh, Draco forced himself away from the plush pillows and leaned up. He cracked an eye open to look at the dishevelled brunette man beside him. "What in God's name are you prattling on about?"

Draco was silent for a moment. "Harry, neither of us has left this room. You fell asleep on my chest. I don't think I –" a yawn fractured his thoughts. "-I don't think I'd been asleep long. You woke me up."

"But … But I saw –"

"Harry you were having a nightmare. That's why you woke up."

"Don't lie to me!" he snapped. He pressed his forehead to his knees and clamped his hands over his ears. "I know what I saw, Draco! I know you were performing a ritual!"

Draco rolled his sore eyes and grabbed Harry's wrists and jerked them away. Hooking a finger under Harry's jaw he turned the younger man to face him through the gloom. "Harry, it's late. I'm tired. You haven't been sleeping properly for weeks and you're having nightmares from your trauma. You need to rest."

Harry shook his head as he mulled everything over in his head. He'd been in that kitchen several times. He'd never seen any lights of moving panels before –so why would it suddenly appear now? His mind scrambled to try and cling to the –had it really been a nightmare? –but the more rational part of his conscious mind wouldn't let it. "I'm not tired anymore," he murmured.

That was a lie.

He was bone-tired to the point that even moving his facial muscles was causing him distress. He felt the warm weight of Draco's arm snake its way around his chest and draw his body back against the firm chest. A shiver ran down his spine as Harry realised just how cold he was. It was so unfair for it to feel this good and warm and safe in the arms of a man who could probably rip his throat out with his fangs if he so wanted.

The pillow cushioned his head, cradling his head comfortably.

Draco's long, cool fingers threaded through his hair, soothing the aches away that had built up over the last few weeks. He let the blonde man knead and massage the stiff muscles up and down his back, neck and shoulders. Even though Draco was tired, his efforts eventually relaxed Harry to lie down properly, his tense muscles loosening up and his eyelids grow heavy. By the time his hysteria had subsided, he dared to think that he was actually 'comfortable' having Draco pressed firmly up against his back. Sleep numbed his mind and his senses and soon the gloom grew heavier until darkness enveloped him.

 

 

 

The following morning Harry awoke to bright morning sunshine with the curtains thrown open and a heavy fog clouding his mind and making him groggy. He rubbed at his eyes and grabbed his glasses before checking that everything was, in fact, as normal as he'd expected it to be. It was. Despite everything, Harry let out a sigh of relief, feeling lighthearted as he scrambled out of bed and made short work of washing, shaving and getting dressed for the day. He was only in his shirt, trousers and suspenders by the time he skidded to a halt in the dining room doorway with his velveteen slippers.

Draco looked up from the newspaper as Harry slid awkwardly into the chair adjacent to him. "You seem in a better mood," he remarked, as he lowered the paper and took a sip from his teacup.

Harry helped himself to a cup and poured himself some tea. "I wouldn't say a better mood, but I definitely feel as though I've gotten a better amount of sleep."  
Draco shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "I'd say I'm glad to hear that, if you hadn't woken me up at two in the morning with your nightmare."

Harry had the decency to look sheepish. "I'm sorry about that. It just –seemed so real."

Draco reached out and gave the younger man's arm a reassuring squeeze. "Don't think on it. We all have nightmares. Even I didn't sleep well when I first moved to London."

"Really?"

"Of course not. How could I? Everything is so noisy all the time. Luckily, Severus kept me company when he wasn't at the hospital."

"Were you and Snape close?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice light as he ladled some porridge into his bowl.

"We were," Draco nodded. "However we –drifted apart as I got older. My studies kept my busy and his teaching classes and being a fully licensed doctor kept him away from the house all hours of the night. Eventually, he signed the house over to me and got himself a room nearer the hospital."

Ah, so that was why it was a two bedroom house.

"Have you heard from him since he went away?"

Draco shook his head. "No. He's not the sentimental type. If there is some ground-breaking discovery or news, he'll either deliver it in person or I'll be reading a eulogy non-too-soon."

Harry's head snapped up at the mention of a funeral. "Maybe you two should make more time for one another?"

Draco snorted into his coffee. "I don't see that coming to fruition I'm afraid."

"You don't know unless you try."

Narrowing his grey eyes, the blonde man hummed in thought. "I think I'll continue to deprive you of sleep."

"Why is that?"

"You're sickeningly optimistic when you've had more than five hours."

Harry tried to bite back as a smile as they continued to eat breakfast. By the time they'd eaten, Draco wiped his mouth and ordered the plates to be taken away. Harry smiled gratefully up at the maid as she beamed at him. "So what are your plans for the day?" Harry asked.

"I need to head up into town and have a word with some other suppliers. Severus asked me to check in on his stores since apparently the order I got for him last week wasn't sufficient enough." Casting a look over at his companion Draco asked, "How about you? What do you plan on doing?"

"I was going to head into town and meet up with Ron and Hermione for dinner later tonight."

"I'll probably be heading back around the same time, would you like me to meet you?"

Harry shook his head, "I couldn't ask you to go out of your way for me. I shouldn't be back late."

"Well if you need anything let me know before I leave." Draco gave his shoulder one last squeeze before standing up and making his way up to his bedchamber to ready himself for his departure.

When Draco left, they exchanged a brief handshake. As passionate as their nighttime activities were they didn't need to go alerting just how close they were to the house-staff. Harry watched from the staircase window as Draco strode confidently down the street to where his carriage was waiting for him. Raking a hand through his hair, Harry returned to his bedchamber and took all his journals into the study so he could sit down and focus on writing up his notes in a new leather-bound journal to present his findings for Snape. He'd include the erratic, rough-draft one as well but he was sure that having a professional one for when other doctors observed his work –should he ever be lucky to get that sort of privilege.

' _You really do like to live in a fantasy world, don't you?_ ' his brain admonished as he leaned back in the stiff-backed chair and stared through the open window.

As he rolled over the events of the previous evening in his mind, a sickening feeling clawed its way to the forefront of his mind. It twisted his heart and knotted his stomach over and over until he had to gasp for air. It was no good. He couldn't focus his mind long enough to do any substantial work on his journal. There was something about that nightmare that felt all too real. He couldn't put his finger on it but –something about it wouldn't leave him alone. Tossing down his quill he stood up from the desk and made up his mind. Enough was enough, he needed answers whether he liked what he found, or not.

Taking the stairs two at a time he made his way to the kitchen.

The breakfast things had been cleaned, dried and stacked already and the maid and butler were off elsewhere in the house doing whatever they did all day. Keeping his ears strained for any approaching footsteps, Harry made his way over to the wall panel. There was a long, narrow table in front of it holding bowls of fruit, a sack of potatoes and half a loaf of bread wrapped in a dishcloth. Had that been there before? Pushing the thought aside, Harry picked up one end of the table and eased it around at an angle so he could access the wall. He pressed against the wall half hoping that the panel would sink in and expose the hidden passageway.

Nothing happened.

He ran his fingernails along the grooves but didn't find any releases. Frowning, he found the panel he was sure he'd pressed on before, but still nothing happened. He pressed as hard as he physically could, but the wall didn't budge. Even knocking on the wall provided nothing. It didn't even sound hollow anymore.

Maybe it  _had_  been a dream?

Pulling up a kitchen chair to sink in to, Harry frowned at the panel hoping beyond anything that a light would suddenly start glowing from the groove between the wall and the floor. "I guess I was wrong after-all," he sighed to himself, ran his hands through his messy hair before dragging himself to his feet and replacing the table back against the wall and the utensils and food on top of it. Casting one last look over his shoulder at the wall, Harry resigned himself to working on his findings for the remainder of the day, only taking a break to have some of the chowder the maid made him.

 

 

~0~

 

 

That night Harry was the first one to arrive at the restaurant. He'd taken some extra time with his appearance that evening; he'd paid to have his hair cut and a professional shave at the barbers shop. He'd used some sort of wax that Draco seemed to favour in his hair to keep it neat and from falling into his eyes. He'd even managed to persuade the housekeeper to let him borrow one of Draco's older, small suits so that he didn't look too out-of-place in the refined restaurant. He couldn't deny he still felt out of his depth. He was surprised that Ron had booked such a place for dinner, but there was nothing that could be done. Hermione was a fine young woman and she deserved the best.

Movement by the entrance drew his attention up from his wine glass. Ron and Hermione were just handing their coats to the young steward, before spotting him and making their way over to the table. Harry smiled at the perfect picture they made; Ron looked well-groomed compared to how he used to look when they'd studied together, even his red hair seemed to glow with a coppery brilliance.

In comparison, Hermione was an angel; her soft caramel coloured hair was curled into shiny ringlets that spiralled down her back and over her shoulders, her warm brown eyes gleamed and her bright blue dress seemed to leech all the colour out of her surroundings.

She was radiant.

"I'm surprised to see you here first," Ron remarked goodnaturedly as he drew out Hermione's chair for her to settle into.

"You and me both," Harry replied. "I had nothing else to do today so I made sure to prepare myself."

"It's good to see you again, Harry," Hermione smiled brightly as she shared a look with Ron. "It feels like ages since we were able to get together like this."

A waiter came over and took their order before bringing over a bottle of white wine.

Once everyone had been poured a glass, Ron turned his attention to his friend. "So, tell me Harry, how have Snape's lectures been since all these grizzly murders have occurred?"

"Ronald!" Hemione hissed, her eyes scanning the occupants of the nearby tables.

"It's okay, darling, all of London and beyond knows of this man. I just want to know how Harry's been fairing when he has to go home in the early hours of the morning when there's no one else about."

"It's actually been okay," Harry placated. "My friend, Draco, does a lot of business in the evenings so when he's able, he accompanies me home."

"Doesn't Draco fear for his own safety?" Hermione asked with an adorable frown.

"Oh, he has a carriage that he has stationed near my place, so that when I'm home safely, all he has to do is walk down the road and get driven home."

"Oh! That's clever of him," Hermione beamed. "Really, it is a wonder Snape even bother's holding his classes during such terrible times."

"Well, Snape is out of town now," Ron stated. "So all his classes are postponed until he returns."

Harry opened his mouth to state that Dr. Slughorn had in fact taken over the night classes, but seeing how his friends deemed him 'safe and sound' for the foreseeable fortnight, he didn't have the heart to shatter their illusion.

Their food arrived and they commenced eating.

By the time their dessert had arrived –Harry had insisted that since they didn't do this as often as they should, they needed to make the most of their evening together –they were all rosey-cheeked and feeling rather merry. Pouring himself another glass of wine, Harry pointed his glass at the happy couple. "So, when should I expect a glossy invitation to your nuptials?" he quirked an eyebrow at them.

Hermione flushed and giggled. Ron went red too, however he also seemed to swell with pride. "Actually, we were thinking of some time in the New Year."

"Really?" Harry felt as though his face were too animated. "When, exactly? I don't want to be tired from these lectures and not able to attend."

"We were thinking of some time in February," Hermione said.

"I shall definitely make sure I have plenty of time off to prepare myself."

"Oh, you have to give a speech as well!" Ron chimed.

"Oh, yes! Harry you must!"

"A speech?" he frowned. "Why?"

"You're going to be my best man of course!" the redhead stated.

Harry felt his jaw drop completely. "Oh my … Ron I'm honoured! Are you sure you think I'm the best person for the job?"

"Of course you are!"

"Harry, we both want you to be involved," Hermione assured him, resting her small hand over his own.

Harry squeezed her own hand in return and clapped Ron on the shoulder with his free hand. "I would sincerely be honoured to be your best man and hope that it will be the happiest day of your lives."

 

 

To say that Harry was lighter than air when he left the restaurant later that night, was an understatement. He bade Hermione and Ron a pleasant evening at the bridge, braced himself against the brisk breeze that rippled across the Thames' surface, and tried to focus his mind and vision on the route back to Draco's home. He almost wished he'd taken one of Draco's canes in order to twirl it around with a jaunty little jig to his step. Alas, there was no such 'jig' as the lamplight around him was swallowed up when he stepped into a street of narrower buildings.

At least there'd be a warm bedchamber awaiting him at Draco's.

As he wove his way through the narrow backstreets and houses, he couldn't help but feel apprehension seep into his bones as he missed a step and felt himself step into a momentary nothingness. It caused his heart and stomach to lurch awkwardly. He had to brace himself against a lamppost on order to regain his breathing. Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, he counted to ten over and over in his head whilst drawing in deep breaths.

"Okay, you're nearly there. Just a few more streets and you'll be safe."

His own advice felt hollow to his own ears, however there was no one around to contradict him.

Straightening up from the lamppost he adjusted his shirt and dinner jacket before making his way along the street. The houses loomed over his head. They seemed to sag inwards under the pressure of the grime that coated them. He couldn't judge the people living in there, though. Up until a month ago he'd been one of them.

' _I really want to get home to Draco_ ,' he found himself thinking as the sound of the Thames faded into the distance.  _'I really need to feel his arms around me_.'

He would never be able to pinpoint the moment when he'd started feeling envious of Ron and Hermione's relationship. It had happened at some point during the meal; he watched how they interacted with one another –how Hermione would place her hand on Ronald's forearm or brush a strand of hair behind his ears, or the way he would kiss the knuckles of her hand affectionately –it all reminded him of the things he would never be able to have with the blonde man. He hadn't even known he'd wanted any of those things until tonight.

Maybe they could have that if Draco gave his housestaff the night off?

Just as he was mulling over that particular possibility, something crashed into his side.

He cried out as he collided with the pavement. The effect of the wine made the sky and street spin out of control. He rolled onto the side and threw up in the gutter. He tried to brace himself up on his forearms but a rough hand grabbed the back of his neck and shoulder.

"Stay down, Harry! Keep still and don't make any sudden noises!"

Harry froze as the pressure disappeared from his shoulder. He tried to keep still, all too aware of how clumsy even breathing felt in that moment. A guttural roar resounded through the black street, sending horror racing down his spine and spiking through the alcoholic haze in his brain.

Who had spoken to him?

How did he know his name?

He didn't recognise the sound of the voice –he barely knew anyone in London.

Rolling onto his back he winced when he realised everything was blurred. He'd lost his glasses. There was the scuffing of feet, yells and the sound of something being struck over and over again. Another howl pierced the white noise buzzing in his ears. It resounded throughout every house and surfed across the Thames. It was like the beast wanted its voice heard all the way from the moon itself!

Harry was frozen to the pavement.

He could just about make out the shapes of a tall man in a black cloak with a cane –or was it a sword? –striking at the tall, greyish brown beast that lunged, leered and snapped its foaming jaws at the newcomer. Was this … the murderer? The maniac? Harry wasn't sure whom he should fear the most!  
As slowly as possible, he groped his way blindly across the pavement, sliding himself into a dark alcove. His breathing sounded like gunfire in his own ears. Edging out of the alcove, he ran his hands behind him against the wall as a guide. Panic and sweat fermented through his borrowed suit and the taste of fresh vomit clung to this teeth and tongue.

What a waste of a meal.

The acidic taste of blood and wine pooled around his teeth. His foot caught on a loose cobble and it skittered off out of his bubble of blurred vision. The snarling beast seemed to stop for a moment. Harry's heart stopped. Without thinking, he turned on his heel and ran, completely ignoring the yells that followed him down the street.

_"HARRY NO! YOU CAN'T OUTRUN IT!"  
_

That wasn't the scariest thing, however.

The thing that would forever scar him was how close he could feel the beast behind him, almost as though its wet breath steamed against the back of his neck.

And the howl –he'd never forget how his blood curdled at the sound.

 _That_  was what his nightmares were made of.


	15. 3rd October 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Wednesday 3rd October 1888_ ** _  
_

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

Draco banged the doors against the wall, barely pausing for breath before tearing up the second staircase on his left. Taking them two at a time, he hurried to the second floor, sweat soaking the underarms of his shirt. Hurrying through the ghastly yellow light, he felt his senses spinning as he finally made it to the third floor ward. Panting heavily, he counted the black painted numbers on the doors before he found the one he needed.

The glass rattled as he threw the door open.

"Sir! Our patients are rest–"

"You!" he sneered, grabbing the white-robed doctor by the lapels. "Where the damn hell is Harry Potter?"

"Sir, I'm afraid we cannot divulge a patient's information –"

"Did I ask for your life story?" Draco snapped, shaking the wiry man. "Now tell me where Harry Potter is!"

Before the sputtering man could utter another syllable, a short, rotund man with horn-rimmed glasses waddled into the doorway. Peering up from his clipboard he asked, "Are you asking after Mr. Potter?"

Releasing his nails from the flesh of the doctor, Draco whirled around on his heels, cane slung over his arm. "Where. Is. He?" he spat out, veins throbbing up and down his neck.

The portly man inclined his head, "Follow me, sir. He's just down the hall."

Draco stormed after the man in question. As they marched along the grotty looking floor, the older man spoke to Draco; "Are you a relative of Mr. Potter?"

"He is my friend," Draco bit out.

"Then where are his family?"

"He doesn't have any."

It was a bald-faced lie but Draco couldn't run the risk of being denied visitation rights on the minor technicality that he wasn't related by blood. As Snape was out-of-town, the responsibility of Harry's health fell upon his shoulders. Not that he wanted it any other way. He felt beyond accountable for the younger man's current condition –whatever that condition actually was. They came to a stop outside a door. The man turned to peer over his glasses at Draco. "I must warn you, sir, that his condition hasn't improved much from when he came to us this morning."

"What condition?"

"It appears he was attacked some time last night and an older man brought him in."

Draco's head snapped up. "An older man?" he licked his suddenly dried lips and straightened himself against his cane. "What did this man look like?"

"I wouldn't know, sir, I wasn't on duty at the time. It should be in the police report."

"The police were called?"

"Of course, sir. Your friend was attacked. It needed reporting."

Draco nodded. Their conversation was starting to circulate. "So, what is his current state?" he asked, managing to keep his voice at a calmer level. "Is he awake? Can I go in and see him?"

"I'll need you to sign some –"

"I don't believe you understood what I said," Draco cut in, seething. His hands were clenched tightly around the head of his cane. "I'm going in to see my friend. After, I am going to the police. If you waste  _any_  more of my time, there's going to be another casualty."

The man swallowed, his fat throat bobbing awkwardly. "Sir," he started, but Draco ignored him.

He simply turned on his heels and marched through the door with the frosted glass at the top.

As soon as he caught sight of Harry, his heart stopped in his chest. He looked so pale, as white as the sheets he was lying on, his glasses were missing. He looked simply absurd without them. Harry belonged with glasses. It was like a fish and water. Draping his cloak over his arm he strode towards the brunette's bedside and sank down into the waiting chair. Up close the extent of the damage was worse –much worse. He sucked a breath in through his teeth and cupped his face in his hands. It was exhausting. He don't know how long he stayed in that position, hunched over in the seat with the sounds of the hospital milling around behind him.

Harry remained motionless on the bed. The right side of his face was wrapped in gauze and his exposed eye was shining dark purple under the harsh lights. His wounded arm was bandaged even thicker and resting in a sling out of the way so doctors and nurses had access to his body. He seemed to breathing well enough on his own, but then Draco had no idea of the extent of the damage that had been done. Draco didn't even know what had actually happened to his companion.

' _You need to speak to the police as soon as possible. This nonsense has gone on far enough!_ ' the cold voice at the back of his head that often sounded suspiciously like his father.

Gripping his hands in his lap, he drew in deep breaths through his nose. He needed to keep his temper under control. Seeing Harry limp and practically lifeless was making him irritable and feverishly angry. There was no real way he could protect Harry, not from the outside world. Maybe being in the hospital, recovering, was the best place for him. It was incredibly difficult simply sitting down and letting the world carry-on as though everything was normal beyond those walls. Swallowing thickly, he leaned back in the chair and watched with dull eyes as nurses bustled in and out of the ward. Pressing his lips together, he checked the charts at the end of Harry's bed but it didn't tell him too much, other than his wounds that were almost all superficial.

Clipping the chart back on the bed-rail, he flexed his aching shoulder muscles and straightened up. There was no use waiting around. The sooner he got down to the police station, the better.

On his way out of the ward, he stopped by the desk at the end of the hallway. The ward matron raised her eyebrows at him as he cleared his throat, his legs feeling jittery as he waited. "Can I help you?" she asked tightly.

"I want you to make sure that Mr. Potter receives the top qualify of care until I return."

"I'm sorry, sir, but the hospital is full of patients. I cannot prioritise one over hundreds of others."

Glaring, Draco dipped his hand into his pocket. Unfolding two five pound notes, he slid them across the counter. "See to it," he demanded, before turning on his heel and striding from the hospital.

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

Down at the police station Draco couldn't help but feel a smidgen of pity at the men who willingly came into the narrow, dank building every day for around fifty years. They seemed to want to be branded as heroes yet at the same time, it wasn't the nicest place to stare at when the streets were kept clean and quiet. Being a patrol officer didn't seem appealing on any level to the blonde.

He was sat in a stiff, battered wooden chair waiting for the officer who had attended Harry's case to come and speak with him. Although as far as anyone seemed concerned, the incident had been reported and no one else had been at the scene, so who on earth could they arrest for the assault? Harry was in hospital now and was recovering from the vicious attack so, as far as they seemed concerned, their job was done.

All that was left was filing the paperwork.

Draco did his best to reign in his impatience but it was becoming increasingly difficult as his 'brief visit' was creeping up to the one-hour mark. He found himself tapping his feet, his cane and constantly checking his pocketwatch.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

His head snapped up. A wiry man with a pencil thin moustache and too much wax in his receding hair beckoned him from a doorway just behind the main desk. Standing up from the stiff chair, Draco followed the man into the tight, airless room. The walls were the colour of the underside of a bridge and it turned his stomach to even imagine what was behind the tall filing cabinets.

Settling down in the chair, Draco eyed the man as he shuffled behind the tight desk and sat down, the chair creaking with his weight. "So … Mr. Malfoy, is it?" he frowned.

Draco glared at him.

"What is it I can do for you today?"

"I need to know what happened to Mr. Harry Potter last night," Draco stated. "I believe an incident was reported sometime last night or in the early hours of this morning."

"Ah, yes. Young mister Potter. Yes, we got the incident report come in at around midnight last night."

"I need to know what happened, exactly."

"I'm afraid we cannot release that information, sir," the officer said.

"Why not?" Draco bit out. "And if you dare breathe a word about how 'you're not a relative' I will be sure to file another report about an officer being brutally attacked in his office by an unknown assailant."

The officer tensed and straightened in the chair. "Sir, are you threatening an officer of the law?"

Draco stretched his mouth into an ugly, thin smile. "What gave it away?"

They glared at one another across the desk.

"I think I need to go and get my supervisor," the greasy-haired man said. He stood up from his desk and edged his way around the room towards the door. It banged shut behind him, leaving Draco along in the suffocating little hole of an office.

After only a few minutes of silent stillness, the door opened once again and someone with a vague air of authority came in and replaced the greasy-haired weasel. He was a broad man with mutton-chops and a thick greying moustache on his lip. He had thick hair on the top of his head and his brown suit looked almost vibrant compared to the dingy walls. "So, I take it that you're the 'arrogant blonde prat with no regards for the law'?" the man asked, with a wry smile.

"That would be me, yes," Draco replied.

"Draco, we've talked about this. You can't harass the green ones."

"I'm well aware, Rubeus, but I have more pressing matters on my mind at the moment."

"Ah. Regarding ye little friend?"

"Yes. He was attacked last night and still hasn't woken up from his ordeal. He's under heavy medication and seeing as he had no relatives in London that are known to us, I am his sole carer right now. Any information that can help him needs to come through to me instantly."

"Draco, even if I wanted to let you have that sort of control over him, you know I can't. We need to locate any relatives he might have."

"He's an only child from a small family that live up North."

Rubeus scribbled a note down in the file. "I'm sorry, Draco."

He actually did appear sorry, which was worse than anything else Draco had heard today. Running a hand down his smooth chin, Draco bit his bottom lip and looked down at the file under Officer. Hagrid's large, meat-cleaver hands. "Can I at least have a copy of the file?"

"Draco –"

"You need to send a copy to the hospital anyway. Just let me be the one to deliver it."

Rubeus hesitated.

Draco lowered his voice and leaned closer over the desk. "You know I'm going to find out one way or another, Rubeus, so just let save us both a lot of trouble and grief and let me be the one to deliver it. The more information that they have, the better chance they have of making sure he lives."

Hagrid's beady eyes gleaned in the dim light. "It was that serious?"

Draco nodded, his expression softening. "It still is." He let out a soft sigh, diverting his gaze away from the gruff man's. "He's life is hanging by a thread Rubeus. I want him to have the best fighting chance he can get." He paused for a beat. "Please?"

The tall, broad man remained still for a moment, deliberating on the pros and cons what such an action would have on his career. He was already a superintendent. He was at a comfortable middle-ground and –if the current murders were solved –he could be up for a promotion. Then again, if anything came back to bite him in the arse it would no doubt be this. Lacing his fingers together, he leaned his elbows on the desk and stared directly at the blonde man across from him. "If I let you have a copy of this report, for your own records, you are to burn it as soon as you have memorised the information."

Draco nodded, his heart beating heavily in his ears.

"On top of that, I should expect a high-praising letter to my superiors about my aiding you along with a form of Christmas bonus."

Draco smirked, keeping his voice low. "Would a hundred pounds be enough?"

Hagrid's eyes nearly bulked out of his head. It was so off-putting hearing rich people shrug at the idea of a hundred pounds. He could still see people deliberate as to whether or not to buy a pennydreadful. Trying to remain calm, the broad man shrugged his shoulders, throwing hefty shadows against the drab walls. "Whatever amount you deem acceptable, Mr. Malfoy, that is entirely upon your head." Opening the file, he took out a sheet of paper and slid it across the desk. "Guard this with your life and burn it as soon as you're able."

"What about the copy you need to send to the hospital?" Draco frowned.

"I'll make another one."

"Won't that arouse suspicion?"

"I'll just say that the incident was fairly traumatising and the paperwork got filed incorrectly. It's still fairly fresh, so it shouldn't be strange to anyone."

Draco took the paper and folded it into his cloak pocket. "I appreciate this, Rubeus."

"Don't forget, Draco. You owe me."

Standing up, the blonde man inclined his head. "I'm sure you'll collect it."

"Maybe I should yell you out of the office?" Hagrid raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Fine. I know you'll want to gloat that you have some dregs of authority left," Draco smirked.

Hagrid smirked as he leaned back in his chair. He indicated for Draco to leave. As soon as the door was open, his deep voice boomed forth from his throat. "DON'T EVER TRY AND THREATEN ME, MALFOY! OR THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU IT'LL BE IN THE MORGUE!"

Draco have a subtle wink before turning on his heel and making a dramatic exit with lots of door-slamming and snarled insults over his shoulder.

 

 

 

Back at his own home, he was sat in his study by the window with a steaming cup of tea and a teapot sat in front of him, the police report splayed out on the desk before his eyes. It wasn't even much of a report, not compared to the ones he'd seen. He'd seen newspaper articles with more detail and depth to it. It was barely even a page worth of information, and he was making sure to read through it over and over just to make sure that all of the spindly words sank into his brain.

 

**_DATE: WEDNESDAY 3RD OCTOBER 1888_ **

**_TIME OF INCIDENT: 00:37AM_ **

**_NAME OF VICTIM: MR. HARRY POTTER_ **

**_AGE OF VICTIM: SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD_ **

**_SCENE OF THE INCIDENT: The young man was claimed to have been found splayed out on the end of the road leading towards Whitechapel road. The victim appeared to have several abrasions to his legs and back, an already wounded left arm and his glasses [found later about inspection] had fallen and were smashed beyond repair. He looked to have a lot of blood and bruising around his face, a cut running over his left eye._ **

**_The incident was reported by an older man [approximately thirty-eight years old] with black hair, moustache and a walking cane. He identified himself simply as Mr. Black [name most likely fake. Will confirm at later date]._ **

**_Mr. Potter was hurried to St. Bartholomew's hospital and was attended by physician, Dr. Anderson._ **

 

That was all it said. There was nothing else. Even the name 'MR. BLACK' was, not only fake, but an obvious dead-end. Something about the entire thing made Draco's insides turn. Last night was a full moon and the wounds appeared consistent with that of the werewolf that seemed to be lurking in the shadow of every house. The only thing that stood out to him was that Harry had been attacked twice, in the same area both times and was not fighting for his life in St. Bartholomew's. These couldn't just be coincidences –could they?

Resting his head in his hand, he couldn't help but feel utterly at a loss in that moment. This would have been the perfect opportunity to go to his Uncle for advice and get a better insight into these going-ons. He tried to shy away from that mythological side of affairs ever since Severus had gotten a promotion and been able to teach lectures in the dead of night. That had all started five years prior, and somehow it had all intertwined until this point.

He took a sip of tea and instantly regretted it when his stomach cramped.

That was happening far too often lately. Maybe he needed to travel up North and drag Severus back down in order to give him a medical diagnosis. Smoothing down his dishevelled blonde hair, Draco read through the brief report one last time, before taking a box of matches out of his desk drawer, striking a match and holding it under the corner of the creamy paper. It caught alight easily, spreading quick and hungry until he had to drop it into a crumbled heap in his teacup.

Smoke plumed up into the air.

It scratched at his throat and made his suddenly thirst for more aconite tea. ' _No_ ,' he thought. ' _I need to go back and see Harry._ '

His body was fighting against the urges though. His bones were aching as though he'd run a hundred miles in his sleep, his brain was fuzzing at the edges and he felt as though his teeth were floating and his nails were ready to wriggle loose and fall out. His chest felt cramped as though there were two extra lungs inside, crushing the life out of his primary organs. It was an indescribably horrible feeling but there was no form of medication he could take that had any effect on it.

It was an ailment from his childhood that refused to disappear. Severus helped manage the aches and pains with the tea and sometimes balms when blemishes appeared with no memorable cause, however even those were losing their effect. The recent events happening in London weren't helping matters either. His worry for Harry was even worse, growing every moment he didn't see those bright eyes every hour or so. He knew he was being overbearing but –he dreaded the thought of someone so perfectly endearing and practically-minded slip through his fingers.

' _Go to him!_ ' his brain urged.

That settled matters.

He didn't bother making preparations for dinner as he fastened his cloak around his throat, snatched up his cane and made his way out of the house and around the corner to where his coach awaited. Barking his orders to the driver, he was suddenly rolling on his way towards the hospital. The ride took no longer than twenty minutes, the cobblestones making his stomach lurch and bile swim up and down his throat. As he stepped out, he took in several deep breaths of the cool, damp air before marching his way across the street and in through the tall, double oak doors.

Thankfully, no one gave him any hassle this time when he asked for Harry Potter's room. There was only one problem –Harry wasn't in the same room when he got up to the third floor. Seething with rage, Draco stormed out of the ward and, upon seeing the fat doctor from earlier that morning, he charged towards him and snatched the front of his robes.

"WHERE IS HE?" he shouted.

"M-Mr. M-Malfoy I –"

"TELL ME WHERE HE IS!"

"Sir! Release him!" another doctor snapped, grabbing at Draco's arm. It took another two doctors to pry his hands and nails out of the rotund man –whose name he later learned was Slughorn. They all seemed to marvel at the strength such a pasty, lithe man seemed to have against someone twice his weight and age. The second doctor who'd manhandled him, roughly took Draco to one side and demanded to know what was going on and if he continued to behave in such an unruly way again, they'd have to physically remove him from the building.

Draco shrugged him off and glared ice down at the doctor. "Tell me where Harry Potter has been moved," he demanded in a cold, cutting voice.

The doctor straightened up as though someone had dropped snow down his collar. "He was given money by a benefactor. He has been upgraded to a private ward up on the fifth floor."

" _What_?" Draco hissed, rage boiling like prickling ants in his veins. He wasn't allowed to put any money towards Harry's life or well-being, yet this stranger was doing so, to what end? Showing Draco up? To make him appear uncaring and unfeeling towards the young man he'd kill to protect?

He froze at the thought, but only for a moment.

Yes, he'd kill for the boy.

"You said the fifth floor, yes?" he repeated, his breath harsh and stinging in his throat.

"Yes," the doctor said.

"Take me to him."

"Sir –"

"You either take me to him, or I'll see you never practice medicine again, do I make myself clear?"

The doctor pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes but, thankfully, didn't argue anymore. Instead, he grasped his clipboard to his chest and motioned for Draco to follow him. Two flights of stairs later and the older man departed, leaving Draco outside the door of a room with grim, grey light bathing the room within. Drawing in a deep breath, Draco pushed the door open and went in.

Harry's condition hadn't improved much from that morning. The dressings of his wounds seemed fresher, and he appeared to have more charts and medication to be given at various intervals throughout the day. He didn't have that before. Apparently good health was something that money could buy.

Feeling envious, Draco settled into the plush chair at the head of the bed and read through the charts and lists strapped to Harry's clipboard. On the very last page there was the information sheet about Harry being liable for such a space, the amount it would cost weekly –a surprisingly affordable amount, even if one was on a tighter budget –and the official signature of the Head of Medicine and the benefactor themselves.

Draco felt blood drain out of his head when he saw the signature and read the printed name underneath.  
 **** __  
Mr. S. Black  
  
The script was neat and swift. If it was an alias, it was well-versed and practised. Draco sat there for hours afterwards, fingers pressed to his lip in thought, mulling over the evidence mounting up. Mr. Black had reported the incident, maybe had even borne witness to it. He clearly returned in order to give Harry as much comfort as possible. That meant he would most likely return a third time.

Draco prepared himself for a long wait.


	16. 6th October 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Saturday 6th October 1888_ ** _  
_

**_~0~_ **

 

 

It took three whole days before there was any improvement to Draco's state of mind. Three whole days of being at the hospital as long as physically possible at Harry's bedside, just waiting for the day this 'Mr. Black' appeared. At around midday on the third day, Draco was just reading that mornings paper when the door to the private ward creaked open. Expecting it to be a nurse or a doctor, Draco looked up with a bored expression, and froze.

"You?" he exhaled, standing up and coming to stand between Harry and the tall man.

"Good afternoon, Draco. I must say I expected you to leave at some point."

"I have," Draco bit out. I go home for a few hours every day."

"I see. Not during the evenings?"

"No," he narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"No reason," Black shrugged and tucked his tinted glasses into the pocket of his overcoat. "Merely a question."

Draco straightened up, crossing his fists across his chest. "Why are you here?"

"I came to see young Mr. Potter here and to examine his condition."

"Why should his health concern you?"

Black narrowed his eyes. "I think you'll find  _that_  is none of  _your_  concern, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco sneered. "As long as he is alive, it's my concern. Now get out of here before I have you removed."

"You're not in a position to make threats," Black smirked. "I'm the one paying for this private room, need I remind you."

"Your money is useless here. Stop paying if you like, I can easily afford this ward without your charity!" the blonde man spat.

Black blinked slowly. "What's with this anger, Draco? Surely you have no objections to family helping you in dire times?"

Draco bristled at the word 'family'. Any family he'd had had turned their back on his after they'd buried the butler. From that moment on his father made a point of trying not to hire men. However, with an estate as big as theirs, men were needed to do the intensive labor. So it was decided that Draco would be shipped off South, to live in London. In a way, he was lucky that Severus wasn't disgusted with him the way his own parents were.

Maybe it was because they weren't blood related therefore Snape had nothing, really, to loose by associating with Draco and any rumour that may have followed him like a hissing shadow.

The thought was of little comfort as Severus was still out of town.

Clenching his fists tightly under his arms, Draco steadied his emotions as best he could. He felt weak, flustered and sweaty but he needed to be strong for Harry. The kid needed someone to protect him. They stared at one another for a while, the tension sparking like lightning between them. Draco didn't know what it was about him that eventually made Sirius turn away, but the older man gave a wary sigh and drooped his chin.

"Very well. I'll take my leave." He turned towards the door. It creaked open. Turning his head slightly he let his eyes scan Draco up and down. "I'd be careful if I were you, Draco," he said smoothly.

"Why?"

"I have a friend with similar – _ailments_  –as you. Tell me; has it been particularly hard for you over the last few days?"

"I've just found out my friend was attacked and left to die in a sewer!" Draco spat. "Of  _course_  it's been hard for me!"

The man regarded Draco with narrowed eyes. "I see," was all he said as he replaced his tinted glasses on his nose. He patted his tophat firmly into place and strode out of the ward.

Draco remained standing. Despite getting rid of the man, he didn't feel as though he'd won that argument. He clenched and loosened his fists. Grinding his back teeth together –why were they sensitive? –and turned his attention back to Harry. God, he looked so small lying in that bed. Draco felt his stomach squirm as he sank back down into the chair and rubbed a hand down his face. They couldn't carry on like this. Harry needed to go somewhere safe. London was far from safe. Despite Draco's best efforts the kid had still been in harms way whenever he set foot outside after dark.

It was as though he attracted the attention of dark and ominous beings.

' _You need to send him home, back to where he came from_ ,' his brain hissed in his ear. He tilted his head to the side, trying not to deliberate on the notion too much. He didn't want Harry to go anywhere. It'd make him paranoid and manic. ' _You need to let him go back to his safe, boring little life in the country. He'll have a better chance at growing old that way._ '

What was the point of growing old if you didn't enjoy the life they lived?

His heart felt like a ball of lead in his chest, crushing everything else beneath it as it sank lower and lower, suffocating him. Biting the inside of his cheek, he walked over to the wash basic in the corner. There was a small, square mirror above it that caught the light. Draco cast a brief glance at himself and almost jumped.

He looked  _ghastly_.

His hair was lank and his skin was a grubby reddish colour. His eyes were flooded with red veins and his lips were pale and dry. He rinsed his face with water and scrubbed his skin raw. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but he couldn't walk around during the day looking as he did. He dabbed his face down on the dry flannel that had been left on the edge of the sink. The rinse-down hadn't done much to alter his appearance. His shoulders sagged in defeat.

"I can't let you stay here," he murmured to himself as he stroked Harry's uninjured hands. It was limp and cool to the touch. He gave it a tight squeeze, as though doing so tight enough was going to force Harry awake. He hesitated before kissing the knuckles. "I'll take care of it, okay?" he murmured quietly. "I'll be back soon."

With one last look over his shoulder, Draco left the ward.

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

Harry awoke to an empty hospital room and the sound of someone bustling around his bedside. His vision was blurry and seemed narrower than usual. His arms felt too heavy to move and his mouth was papery and raw. Every part of him was desperate for moisture. He parted his lips and tried to call out for help, for water, for anything –but the only thing that came out was a quiet, hiss of breath. He tried shifting his body about but everything felt heavy and wrong. Even his brain was screaming from the inferno inside his skull.

He didn't know how long he was in that state of hazy limbo before someone realised he was awake.

Two nurses and a doctor swooped into the room and without moments of blurry white movement, Harry felt his body being forced up into a sitting position. His joints and bones seemed to creak like an old rocking chair with the effort. It made his head spin. He needed to vomit –but the acidic taste would blister this throat.

"… _Okay now lie him back down_  …" a voice hummed somewhere overhead.

Harry felt his the pressure on his back weaken and his body eased back against the pillows. He tried to move his mouth but he wasn't entirely sure if the nerves in his jaw were responding properly. He soon felt like the room was empty, vacuous around him. It made him feel uncomfortable. He wasn't even sure if he was hungry. Everything seemed to start spinning a little if he tried to focus on it for too long.

Whenever he tried to clear his mind, images of that night set his brain on fire.

Eventually his eyes drifted …

 

 

 

Time no longer made any sense of had any substance in his mind.

There were so many fragments of time, both bathed in daylight and suffocated under nightfall. It depressed him to think that he'd been there for hours or days or –Heaven forbid! –months without realising. It made him feel sick and burning. His clothing clung to him and he was sure that his bedding hadn't been changed in … however long it'd been since he'd last woken up.

At least his brain was gradually sorting itself out and thinking marginally better.

Suffice to say he only had one repeated thought, and that was to see Draco.

Since he hadn't been there to visit him, Harry could only assume that he hadn't really been awake for  _that_  long. Draco would have come and visited him at some point surely. He itched to see the familiar flash of blonde hair and clear cut grey eyes. He needed that familiarity to anchor him down. He needed the brush of skin again his own, the feeling of someone looking at him as opposed to through him.

He was suddenly aware of how the corpses must have felt.

On the fifth time he woke up he managed to get someones attention. They began bringing him meals –just soup and a small piece of bread that made his jaw ache when he chewed –along with water to drink. Something more routine made him better able to track the days. It only helped a little though, because if he didn't respond to them, they'd simply leave and take the food away with them.

On the seventh time he woke up he was able to remain awake for a good few hours, as boring as they were. Draco still hadn't come to visit, and with the regular food and water he was gradually getting the use of his voice back. The nurses had given him sympathetic looks and smiled when he'd asked after Draco. None had heard from him but his name was now on their registry for the room payments, so Harry could stay for as long as he needed to recover.

Harry didn't know how to feel about that.

By the twelfth time he woke up Harry was able to glean some more information. His chest still ached tightly that Draco still hadn't bothered to show up and see if he was okay. It made bitterness and resentment grow from a seed inside his chest. Although all the empty hours sat up in bed gave him a lot of time to think over the work he'd done. It was all very well and good explaining what he observed but to go the extra mile and find a cure –if that was even possible. He was sure he'd been so close to something before he'd gone out with Ron and Hermione.

That's when another seed grew in his chest.

Why had neither of them come to visit him? Did no one know he was in the hospital? Had they kept  _his_  attack out of the paper? He needed to remember to ask the nurses when they came back with his evening meal. The only thing he could think about in the meantime was various ways to try and use aconite in some remedies that might help with the with the complications that came with turning into a werewolf. He mulled over the possibilities, trying to remember as much as he could from what was written in his journals.

' _The transformation of a wolf occurs at the full moon of each month. The wolf ruptures organs and shatters bones and breaks the skin. Perhaps a cure that makes the skin strong enough to withstand breakage_.'

A seal perhaps? Silver infused bandages? Or would it be something to do with ointment? Or a balm?

' _An ointment would sink through to the skin and perhaps even into the bones. It would need to be incredibly long-lasting and sustainable_.'

Would that be enough? Generally most medication needed to be injecting into muscles and absorbed through the stomach. Perhaps he needed something digestible as well? He gnawed on his chapped lips and couldn't help but wonder what other things could combine to make a possible cure.

_What if it didn't work?  
_

There was always that risk. That it wouldn't work. However if they couldn't cure the wolf … would it be possible at the very least, to sedate it? Perhaps if he could invent some form of sedating drug that would make the wolf less dangerous –at least that would be a start toward finding a cure. That was surely helpful to the world.

Imagine; a tame werewolf.

It made him feel flushed with excitement. If only he wasn't stuck in the hospital, then maybe he could actually get some work done.

Two weeks.

That was how long he had been in the hospital. He felt sick to his stomach when he was finally told that, if he had somewhere to go, he was fighting fit and able to join the outside world. The only frustration was that it took another two days after being told said good news, was that he needed to be fitted for some new glasses as his old ones had been crushed 'That Night'.

He begrudgingly got the new glasses and had to resign himself to wearing an eyepatch underneath it for another week.

On the day of his discharge Harry was relieved to see a shock of sleek red hair peeking out over the crowd. As soon as Ronald caught sight of him, his freckled face split open into a large grin. Crossing the tiled room, he offered Harry a cane to help with his walking. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he held the door open. Together they walked down the stone steps of St. Bartholomews.

Harry eyes the tall man warily. "I'm feeling okay. A little dizzy now and again."

"That'll pass in time."

They walked in silence until they got down to the pavement. "Why did neither you nor Hermione visit me?" Harry asked. The anger he felt bubbling in his chest was sickening. Being alone in that hospital had made one thing very clear to him over the last two weeks; he was completely alone in this world. He had to fight his own battles.

"Hermione doesn't like hospitals and I've been taking my doctoral exams early. I'm sorry I couldn't make time to see you. I did write you, didn't you get them?"

"Evidently not," Harry ground out.

"I truly am sorry. I came today to see you and was told you were being discharged. I waited around for you."

Harry supposed that was something.

"Would you like to go for something to eat?" Ron asked as they walked in silence through the dim October sunshine. "I don't doubt that you've had enough of hospital food."

 

 

Over lunch they talked about all the things that had happened to Ron and Hermione over the last fortnight. Wanting to become a fully-licensed doctor before they were married, both of their parents and contributed Ronald to getting extra tuition and studying. It had been intense and had taken a lot of hours –sometimes even going on until midnight which had left the man ragged for his own, official classes.

Harry secretly thought that it was somewhat justified.

Ronald was going to be taking his final exams that Friday afternoon. He was tense and stressing about it but he was also excited. At this point, he almost didn't care what field he was tossed into, as long as he was a certified doctor he would have some esteem in the new social circles he'd be entering, via Hermione's family. Harry listened as attentively as possible, his mind often wondering to his own dilemmas. He needed all his notes to start properly formulating a plan. He needed to experiment with various ingredients and make a series of antidotes and balms –and noting their recipes –so he'd be able to eventually test them. Although testing would require an actual … werewolf.

The notion put him off his –rather small –main course.

They discussed the upcoming wedding over dessert. Somehow, sweet cakes and tea were much more appealing to Harry in that moment. It seemed to melt like caramel over his nerves. When asked about what he had been up to before being attacked and hospitalised, Harry's mind drew a blank. A lot of his memory was still distorted between what was insomnia-induced hallucinations and what was real. Eventually he settled on a small truth.

"I think I may have met someone," he said.

"Oh?" Ronald paused, his fork hovering just in front of his face. "Anyone I know?"

Harry had to catch himself before he said Draco's name. It lodged in his throat like a sour, boiled sweet. "No," he finally said. "No you don't know them. It's relatively new so I don't want to spoil things by declaring it to anyone just yet."

The redhead nodded sagely. "I understand. I was nervous when I started courting Hermione because –well! You've seen her! She's so far out of my league I'm still having to pinch myself in the mornings to make sure I'm not dreaming."

Harry knew that feeling all too well, too. He often couldn't believe everything had happened in the dark of night, until Draco's hand lingered a little too long on his back, or his leg. A tremor ran down his spine.

He needed to see Draco.

Thankfully, Ronald had another study session to get to. Once he had paid, Ronald helped Harry up and they exited into the street. Harry watched, leaning heavily on his borrowed cane, as the redhead man climbed up into a coach and was wheeled away into on-coming traffic. Left in the afternoon sunlight, Harry drew in several shallow breaths, his body rejecting the food that he'd just eaten. He clamped his jaw shut in order to keep it down. Eventually, he managed to make his way in the direction of Draco's house.

 

 

Once there, Harry hobbled out onto the pavement, the cane almost buckling under his weight. He'd needed to come here anyway, considering all of his belongings were still there. How had it been two weeks, when everything else still looked the same? His stomach churned uncomfortably inside him. The house loomed before him; tall, white and majestic –exactly what Harry thought of Draco when he was kneeling over him, glowing in the moonlight. Shaking his head clear, Harry stumbled awkwardly up the pale grey steps and knocked on the door. He felt useless on that doorstep, as though a hundred eyes were peering through curtains and burning the back of his neck.

There was no answer.

He knocked again, louder and longer. It  _was_  a large house, after-all.

Eventually, Mr. Jenson the manservant answered the door. He regarded Harry with his same nonchalant expression. "Hello, Mr. Jenson, I don't know if you remember me?"

"Mr. Potter, of course I do," the old man stated. "Was there something you needed? Your room has been left as it was. Master Draco was insistent on that."  
Harry nodded, "Thank you, that's very kind of you. And helpful." Adjusting his position against the cane, he continued; "I was actually looking for Draco. I have a few matters I need to discuss with him."

Jenson frowned heavily. It was the first real expression Harry had seen him make. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. Master Draco isn't here."

"W-What do you mean he isn't here?" he asked, his voice a strained whisper as he tried to fight against the heated flush creeping through his body.

"I was sure he'd have told you. Master Draco has left London."

"Did he say for how long?" Harry asked desperately. He needed to see the blonde man. He needed to see him, flesh and bone, to feel him and hear his voice. His eyes started to tear up a little as he struggled to breathe. "It's –it's important –I need to see him!"

"I truly am sorry, Mr. Potter. Master Draco has gone out of London –indefinitely."

Harry felt his leg buckle and the cane skid out from underneath him. The cold concrete step hit his hip hard. He barely even grunted in pain, the numbness spreading through him like a poison. He didn't even react when Jenson's hazy voice called for assistance from the housemaid, nor did he react when he felt hands grabbing at him. He stared into the void as the daylight was closed out by the thick front door.

Indefinitely. Draco was gone indefinitely. The word made him feel sick, cold and numb. All he could hear was that word ringing in his head. He wanted to hide away from everything.

Draco was gone.

 _Indefinitely_.


	17. 27th October 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Friday 27th October 1888_ ** _  
_

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

Harry was grateful to Jenson and the housemaid, Henrietta, who let him stay at Draco's house. He don't know what he would've done otherwise. It had been a long week and the effects of his attack and drugs still hadn't faded from his mind. They have him persistent nightmares and it made him wake up, choking on his own phlegm and sweat. Thankfully, the house-servants didn't seem to mind. He had even asked them about it, the guilt eating away at him for those first few days, but they insisted that any friend of Draco's they were happy to help.

Once that concern was dampened down, Harry found it a little easier to work.

He spent as many daylight hours as he could, his head bent low over his journals and scraps of papers and making detailed notes, diagrams for various sedatives for lycanthropy. He also wanted to create some salves or balms that would work on injuries given by a werewolf. Like his arm. The thoughts of experimenting various medicinal ointments on his own scar filled him with a slow-burning dread. There's be no real antidote if something burned, irritated or ate away at his muscles.

' _Maybe I need some mice to test on_ ,' he thought idly as he drank another cup of aconite tea. It really was addictive.

Running a hand through his dishevelled hair, he decided to stretch his aching legs and go down the two lights of stairs to the main hall. He needed to see if anymore of his parcels had arrived in the post. He couldn't very well start mixing concoctions without the proper equipment set up. Thankfully, everything was mail-ordered and due to arrive by the following Monday.

Until then, he'd need to head into town and grab some mice from the local pet store –or he could just set traps in the garden but he had a feeling that the housestaff wouldn't care for him bringing disease-ridden vermin inside. He had cleared the furniture in the study off to one side so he had more room for his experiments and then departed the house to get the other equipments and test subjects he needed.

As soon as some of his experiments proved to be not poison, he could take a risk on himself.

 

 

Later that evening, hunched over his desk with his shoulders threatening to break and his neck aching, Harry had his new glasses pressed high on his nose and mixing his bubbling concoction over a small controlled flame. It had a sickly, pungent aroma and he was almost sure it was melting his ladle. The smells were making his head spin. He was trying not to put too much of his hope into the first batch but he couldn't help himself. Of all the things happening right now, he needed something to go right for himself.

By midnight he had at least ten different substances brewing on a low heat. His back was as stiff as his walking-cane and sweat stained his skin and made his shirt stick to his skin. Underneath each little black cauldron, he wrote down which variation it was along with the recipe he'd used. He knew he was being anal about everything but he needed everything to be just right. The last thing he needed was to be ridiculed for forgetting a simple ingredient or how many times he'd stirred it all.

Before the break of dawn he'd fallen asleep on the desk.

The smell of all the bubbling brews made his senses black-out. He was roused from sleep by a hand on his shoulder and the sweet smell of aconite tea hit his senses like a bucket of cold water.

"Mr. Potter?" the housemaid gently shook him, the fog in his brain making it difficult to react properly. He grunted, rubbing at his eyes and shuddering as the early morning sunlight fell over him.

"What time is it?" he slurred.

"It's half past eight, sir," she stated, setting the small breakfast plate and teapot in front of him. "You also have a visitor."

Harry frowned heavily. "A visitor? Did they say who they were?"

"I'm sorry sir," she shook her head. "He was adamant he needed to see you. I showed him into the front parlor."

"Okay," Harry nodded absently, his mind still waking up to the prospect of having a visitor. It wasn't like this was his home. It was most likely one of Draco's business associate's. They probably weren't aware that Draco had gone out of town for business –or something.

' _Don't pull at that thread,_ ' he warned himself as he took a sip of tea. It rubbed away some of the chill from his insides, perking his senses up a little. He needed his wits about him to deal with the type of man that Draco dealt with. With a weary sigh he stood up, drained the last of his tea and made his way downstairs to the front parlour. Pushing the door open he stopped short when he saw a man standing tall and proud in a top hat, a cane hanging limply over his wrist. He was stood before the tall dark bookcase, his eyes scanning the gold pressed lettering from behind his tinted glasses. His hair hung around his shoulders in dark brown curls that were somewhat tamed by the short top hat on his head.

Harry cleared his throat.

The man turned to him and then a slow smile stretched his lips. "Ah, good afternoon young man."

"Hello sir," Harry inclined his head. "I'm afraid if you're here to see Draco, he isn't in town at the moment."

The man chuckled, a deep throaty sound. "Actually, Mr. Potter, it was you I'd come to see."

Harry blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry? I think you might have the wrong person. I don't  _know_  you."

"You're Harry Potter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then it is you I'm here to see."

"What is it you wanted to see me about?"

"According to an old acquaintance of mine, you are currently in the process of developing a drug to be used in regards to people afflicted with … lycanthropic tendencies."

Harry narrowed his eyes. He'd been worried about people getting wind of his experiments. He didn't want rumours to start spreading about him and then have a hundred and one people willing to target and mass-produce a cure that may or may not work. Biting on his lip, he pressed the door closed behind him and swallowed hard. "Sir I don't know what you're -"

The man held up a hand. "Let's not waste time with nonsense, Mr. Potter."

Harry clamped his mouth shut.

"We both know what you've been purchasing lately and the type of experiments you were conducting."

Harry felt as though the room was spinning around him. He braced himself back against the door for support.

"I am not here to report you to the police or to bring up in front of the board of directors at the hospital," the man stated idly flicking an invisible speck of dust from his overcoat sleeve. Straightening up, he fixed Harry with a firm stare. "This is more of a beneficiary visit."

"In … er … what way?" Harry asked, his brain feeling dizzy. He needed to sit down but didn't want to appear weak in front of this man. This man who shouldn't have the knowledge he currently possessed of Harry and his private workings.

"I am here to loan you any of the funds you require in order to find a cure."

Harry blinked, taken aback. He hadn't been expecting  _that_. Frowning he looked up and bit the inside of his cheek. "Why would you have any interest in my work? It's just ideas I have no idea if any of these concoctions are going to work!"

The man spread his hands in the most elegant shrug. "That matters not. You're trying and that's what matters to me. If you require any special monetary funding, just send work for me and I shall contribute to your projects."

All words seems to evaporate on Harry's tongue.

The man smirked. "I'll let you process my offer, Mr. Potter, but know that it will not be around for long. As for your current experiments," he stated, flexing his long fingers into a pair of sleek black gloves. "For each one I wish to purchase a small vial of each."

"I –but they're –they're not really for sale," Harry hedged.

"I'll pay you five pounds each per vial."

Harry was at a loss for words. Eventually he said the only thing he could think of. "They're still cooling, sir. They're not ready for bottling yet."

The man chuckled low in his throat. It was deep and rumbling, akin to the growling of a dog. "I shall come back this evening then, Mr. Potter. Remember, a vial of each? I shall bring the money with me. Have a think of my other offer as well, and we can discuss a written contract if that makes you feel more comfortable."

He was about to take his leave when Harry finally snapped to his senses and called out after him. "Excuse me, sir! I –I'm not sure I can sell these creations without knowing what you plan on doing with them."

Stopping at the door, the man turned to face the young brunette, so close that Harry caught a sickly sweet scent radiating from the mans collar. Was that -? Could it be -? Aconite? His head spun. The man opened his mouth and murmured, "Let's just say I have a –close friend –with similar afflictions to your own."

Harry felt a tremor run down his spine.

There were  _others?_

Before he could ask any more questions, the tall man tipped his hat, tweaked his moustache and departed from the room. Harry was left stunned and speechless nesting back on a desk and raking a hand through his hair. He took deep calming breaths and tried to process the information. There were more people who had been attacked by werewolves and hadn't been murdered? Even stranger still, this man –whom Harry just realised he hadn't asked his name! –seemed to be harbouring one of said victims from the law and the public eye. Why had they not spoken out? At each one of the crime scenes and newspaper articles not once were any other people mentioned.

His head was reeling.

There was another five days until the next full moon. He suddenly felt his chest grow tight, as though he were suddenly racing against the clock. ' _Don't be silly!_ ' he berated himself, a cool sweat dampening his lower back. ' _You have plenty of time there's no need to panic! You already have several test recipes cooling down at this very moment!_ '

That thought gave him a small bead of hope –but then the thought of getting more money for a small vial of each poultice and balm, along with some extra spending money for equipment and maybe even some rarer herbs from Ollivanders apothecary. That thought alone made his stomach bubble with promise. Was he getting too excited? He didn't even know the man's name! It was almost as bad as getting into a stranger's carriage just because he claimed to be going in your direction.

Harry knew the real reason he was hesitating –he missed Draco. The blonde man would definitely know what to do in that sort of situation. If anything, Draco would have been the one to pay for everything and anything Harry's heart desired! After all, he'd paid for the majority of the private ward at St. Bartholomews! Draco would have known what he should do about this mysterious man.

With nothing else to do, Harry went upstairs to finish off his cold breakfast and bottle his current potion experiments.

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

As night fell so did Harry's stimulation. He'd done everything on his current to-do list, including getting a dozen mice from the local bread factory. They ran rampant in there and he'd spent a good hour or so setting a non-lethal trap to capture them in. Now that the mice were caught, the potions brewed and the small vials bottled and labels of the mysterious bureaucrat, Harry was left with only two options; one was to simple call it a night, have some tea and go to bed. ' _Maybe you should wait_ ,' his conscious suggested. ' _Maybe this mystery man should be the one to test it on his friend. Then you can replicate the results_.'

It wasn't the worst idea in the world, but Harry also knew he'd end up being the one held responsible. Besides, if this man's 'friend'  _was_  afflicted by werewolf wounds, then perhaps he too was as mild-mannered as Harry.

He didn't deserve to suffer.

Just as he was pondering on whether to drug the irritating mice or not, a booming knock resounded from the front doors. Harry flinched in his seat, unable to control himself. Loud noises were not a common occurrence back home, it still made him a little on edge at the best of times. Within moments, the housemaid was scuttling into the room, her drawn features looking a little puffy. Perhaps she'd been asleep. It was quite late.

"There's a gentleman at the front door, sir," she stifled a yawn against the back of her hand. "Shall I let him in?"

Harry nodded, "yes, please do. I shall be down in a moment."

"Yes sir," she bowed her head and was about to close the door.

"Joan?" Harry called out.

"Yes, sir?"

"Once you've shown him in you can go to bed. I can handle everything else." He offered her what he hoped was a genuine smile.

"That's very kind of you sir." She seemed like she truly meant it as she backed up out of the room and closed the door gently behind her.

Upon entering the front parlour, Harry was struck by a sudden sense of dejavu. Everything was happenng as it had before, the only different being that the sky outside the window was now black, only punctured by the orange light from the streetlamps. He closed the door as quietly as he could behind himself, before turning to address the man.

"So you kept your word?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter," the man gave a knowing smile. "I am a man of my word. A rare thing these days."

"Indeed."

Cocking a black eyebrow, the man turned to address Harry. "I shall come right to the point, Mr. Potter, I'm desperate."

"D-Desperate?" Harry repeated.

"Yes. My friend is ailing and I need to test-run your drugs."

"Sir, they haven't been tested to any degree. I don't know if they're safe for human ingestion."

"That's not a matter of concern," the mysterious man stated bluntly. "My companion has ailed in this manner for many decades. He is exhausted. You are the first person to have some idea of what could lead to a cure."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, not really knowing what to say. To have to suffer from werewolf wounds for such an extended period of time would no doubt drive anyone to such a desperate turning point in their lives. Harry felt his stomach grow tight as he wrestled with his conscience.

What if he handed over the vials and over the next few days a death was reported? Listing him as the creator of said unknown drug? It would finish his entire career before it had even started.

No, it was too risky.

Raking a hand through his hair, he regarded the man before him with a suspicious gaze. Adopting a posture he'd seen Draco use a hundred times, he decided that he was going to do the professional thing and put his  _patient_ first. That was his duty as a future doctor.

"I'm afraid before I can do anything else, sir," he stated in a cold voice. "That I'm going to have to insist on seeing my would-be patient."

The man tightened his square jaw.

He clearly didn't approve of this decision.

"My companion is unable to leave the house in his current state."

"Then I must insist that you take me to him at once."

"Mr. Potter, you are not in the –"

"Need I remind you,  _sir_ , that I am training to be a doctor!" Harry ground out. "You have come to buy something off me that has not been testing and might very well poison your companion! Now, before either of us takes any more risks in this matter, I am telling you now; take me to him!"

They glared at each other through the glow of a few candles.

Harry held his ground, every muscle in his body ready to strike out if the man tried to do anything uncouth to him. He wasn't good at confrontation, but this man was insisting that Harry risk his livelihood and put his head on the chopping block for some man who –despite the similarities in their situations –was a complete stranger to Harry.

Finally, the man sighed.

"Fine," he intoned darkly. "My carriage is parked outside. We can take it and go and see my companion.  _Then_  will you sell me the vials?"

Harry regarded him with a reserved expression. "I'll consider it."

 

 

The carriage-ride was tense. The air between them humming with suppressed anger, complication emotions and the creaking of the carriage wheels on the damp cobblestones. Nothing stirred beyond the lace curtain as the horses' hooves briskly drove them through the narrow streets. The almost-full moon hung low and fat in the sky. As they moved away from Draco's house, Harry was flooded with dread. Had he just made a grave mistake in getting into this strangers carriage? What was going to be on the other end of this trip? What if he'd just signed his own death certificate and not let anyone else know where he'd be going? What if his name ended up on the front page along with an article about his brutal murder?

What if Draco returned just to realise that Harry had done a million stupid things in his absence?

A tremor ran down his spine.

' _I'm in way over my head_ ,' he thought, his body growing hot through his winter cloak.

After about an hour or so, the carriage finally slowed to a halt. The man next to him barely shifted as his door was opened and he stepped out, the carriage jostling at the loss of weight within it. Harry followed suit, not having his own door opened for him. Not that he cared much, wanting this evening over with as soon as possible.

Why had he even agreed to this?

They'd stopped on the outskirts of London. The houses dotted around were all detached and spaced a lot more distantly apart compared to the London streets he'd gotten used to. Harry felt a chill run through him. He hadn't told anyone where he was going and now he was nowhere near central London. What had he done?

The house itself was a very tall, narrow, dark building that looked as though it had seen better days. The brick work was loose in some places and there were a fair few bald spots on the roof where tiles had gone missing over the years. It was dilapidated and rather upsetting to look at. All the windows stared down at them like black, soulless eyes. Harry stared up at the house, his mind reeling. Without hesitation, the older man stepped through the iron gate and made his way up the path toward the front door.

Harry had to jog to catch up to him.

"What're we doing here?" he hissed through his teeth, the bite in the air making his body ache.

"You wanted to come and meet my friend," the older man stated bluntly, drawing a key out from his cloak and slipping it into the lock.

It groaned.

The door swung inwards.

The hallway beyond was dark. Striking a match, the man lit a lantern on a side table and held it aloft. "This way," he instructed, leading Harry down the narrow, somewhat dusty hallway towards the opposite end of the house.

' _This is it_ ,' Harry thought. ' _This is where my body will be found in ten years time._ '

Yet there was something about the whole ordeal that didn't ring completely untrue. There was something being kept from him he was sure about that. It was the reason he'd secreted a small penknife in his jacket pocket. It clinked loudly against the small vials he had with him. Stepping down the hallway, Harry had to strain his eyes for anything that moved in the darkened corners. Doorways gaped like black mouths waiting to swallow him up on either side. The only source of light was the lantern held over the other man's head. Outside the wind howled and made the entire house bend beneath it.

In the back room, which served as a kitchen, the older man was waiting for him, his hand poised on the handle of a weathered door. It looked as old and battered as the rest of the house. Harry felt claustrophobia set in as the dark walls seemed to edge closer and closer, the air growing stale with each breath.

He needed to get out.

"He's just down here," the man stated.

"Down there?" Harry repeated, indicating the door. "Down in the basement? Your friend is ill and he lives here, in the  _basement_?"

"Yes."

Harry wanted to scream, to shake the man, to run and set fire to the house and anything that might be awaiting him in the basement. A sudden image flashed; the image of a circular stone room, a large tub with milky, frothy bathwater and a long, pale hand stretching out of it …

He gasped, his body coated in sweat.

"Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not going down there."

"I understand your apprehension, but we really are against the clock here."

Harry glared up at the man. His face was hard to read by candlelight. If Harry had known him better he'd wager that the man was –afraid? Afraid of what? His pending actions? The murder he was about to partake in? Or was it simply that he really  _did_  care for his friend? Something plucked at Harry's heart.

"Okay," he finally exhaled slowly, his chest tight. Every muscle and nerve was frantic with fear. "Take me down to see him."

One-by-one, they descended the staircase. It was narrow and tight, the paintwork peeling off in large, greasy flakes. Harry grimaced through the darkness and brushed his hand clean against his cloak. About halfway down the staircase, something grunted. Harry froze, sweat exploding over him. There was the grating sound of metal against stone.

It set his teeth on edge.

As they neared the bottom of the staircase, the grunting grew louder. Mice scurried off into corners. Something shuffled and brushed awkwardly against the stone floor and Harry felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he stopped on the stairs. The old man continued, holding the lantern high. Light fell –at last –into the further corner of the room where a broken bedframe hung limply around a stuffed mattress. A mutilated nest of blankets, furs, and rugs had been strung together to cover the trembling, sweating body of –a man?

Blinking, Harry rubbed at his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

It was. It was just a man. A very ill man, no doubt, but there was absolutely nothing inhuman about him.

Vaguely reassured, Harry descended to the ground level and hedged closer, making a mental note of how many steps he took away from the bottom of the staircase. The grunting turned into groans as the lantern was set on the ground beside the head of the 'bed'. Watching warily, he observed the older man kneel down on the gritty, cracked floor and reach out an ungloved hand toward the man in the sheets. As tender as one would be with a child, he brushed the sweat strands of hair aside.

That's when Harry saw it; the eyes!

They were empty! There was nothing in them –no colour, no pupils, no whites, nothing! They were just glossy and black, as though someone had poured tar inside a skull and left it to set. He felt bile burn up the back of his throat as he looked in the rest of the features; faded scars across the face, sallow skin, cracked, parched lips and puncture wounds where teeth had set in –sharp teeth!

The air around him was suddenly hot and acrid.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end as he watched the man interact with this –daemon. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to run but he was paralysed with fear. He didn't have anywhere to run to. He had begrudgingly left the safety of Draco's townhouse and now he was on the outskirts of the city, in an unknown location and no one knew where he was!

He panicked as the reality sunk into his bones.

Fear burned like acid in his stomach as he looked over at the creature again. It was clearly sleep-deprived, it's movements erratic and disjointed. Its head lulled from side-to-side, jaw slack and eyelids drooping but never closing for more than a second or two. It was so much worse than he'd feared. This man had not suffered wounds from being  _attacked_  by a werewolf.

He was one.


	18. 28th October 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Saturday 28th October 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

 

Harry nearly screamed when his backed up against the wall.

In that filthy nest of blankets and rugs the creature writhed closer to the glow of the flame, his limp hands pawing in the hair towards the man in the top hat. He still wore it and only in that moment did Harry realise how bizarre it was. Especially since the older man was crouched down in a very pristine outfit and  _crooning_  to the creature!

"Shh, shh, it's okay. I know it's painful," he hummed gently, threading his ungloved fingers through the rather matted sweaty clump of hair clinging to the daemon's skull.

Harry clamped his eyes shut. His ears were unable to block out the sound of the guttural moaning from the animal's throat. It was almost like a deep whimper of pain. He needed to get out, to leave. It was healthy for anyone if he remained in that basement.

The grating of metal on stone made him sick.

"I –I'm sorry!" he finally found his voice. It came out broken and scared but he didn't care. "I can't –I can't help him!"

The man turned his slow gaze up to him, the glow of the single candle wavering as the daemon's laboured breathing gushed against it. "You've not even looked at him, yet."

"I can see well enough!" Harry retorted. "You lied to me! He wasn't attacked!"

"If we're going into semantics, Mr. Potter, then yes he was attacked. Only his case is much more severe than yours."

"It's a full moon in a DAY! Do you really think chains are –are enough to –?"

He trailed off as he foot brushed against something. It skitted and the sound twisted something inside him. He looked down and was just able to make out something long and pearly white on the stone floor. Was that –was that a human limb bone? He felt somewhat numbed to it, compared to the writhing beast in the corner.

"These chains are all I'm able to do to keep him here."

Harry turned his nose up. "They don't work, do they?"

The man swallowed tightly but didn't reply. "Can you just  _look_  at him, Potter? Please?"

Everything inside Harry was shaking and screaming 'NO!' He rubbed the back of his neck until his skin chaffed. Clamping his jaw tightly, he took a heavy couple of steps until he was close enough to smell the blood, the decay and the stench of soiled sheets. "You keep him like an animal?" he asked.

"He's too weak to move anymore," the man state tightly. "I want to do more for him but I am limited in my power and resources."

"It doesn't seem that way to me," Harry bit out. He was shot a glare for his efforts.

"I did some reading a few months back," the man continued. "The Greeks and Romans used to believe that a state of severe exhaustion could cure men of his malady. Unfortunately, over said few months nothing seems to have changed anything. I thought if I could exhaust him enough after one of his excursions –it would help."

"Did you –try anything else?" Harry hedged.

"A number of things."

"Such as?"

"Why do you care?"

"In order to help, I need to know what he's been subjected to."

"Well –there was some nonsense about calling out his Christian name as soon as he'd changed or in the midst of the night. It didn't work and honestly, I'm amazed anyone ever believed it could be that simple."

The thing grunted and lurched.

The thick collar around his neck dragged him back.

Harry backed away, out of reaching distance. "Sir, please, you cannot keep him here!" he stressed. "He's a danger to us! How have you not been bitten yet?" After so long it was absurd to think that the man was out of harms way.

The man's shoulders sagged. "I've had a number of close calls, but I have been able to keep myself safe."

"Sir I don't think I can –"

"Sirius."

Harry blinked. "I –what?"

"My name is Sirius. Sirius Black."

Harry's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before shaking himself back to the moment. "Okay,  _Sirius_ , I don't think anything I do is going to be much good for him. He –he can't go on like this. He's barely even a man anymore. You need to let him go."

"HE'S MORE THAN A MAN THAT YOU COULD EVER KNOW!" Sirius hollered, slamming his fists into the wall. Something splintered and cracked but it was too dark to see what. Dust and chips of plaster drifted down from the ceiling. The creature strained against his restraints, mouth hanging open as it groaned and salivated down his front. Harry cast it a terrified look. He didn't want to be there anymore.

Drawing in a calming breath, Harry said, "I'm sorry but I don't think there's anything else I can do. Maybe if you brought him down to the hospital when Severus returns he might –?"

"No!" Sirius barked out. The creature jerked again at the loud noise. "He can't know of this."

Harry furrowed his brow and tried to process the information. "You –You know Severus?"

Hunching his shoulders, Sirius gave a stiff nod. "Yes. I know him."

"Personally or …?"

"We were in school together if you must know."

"School?"

Sirius sighed heavily, almost an animalistic growl through his barred teeth. "We were in medical school together."

Harry felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. " _You_  were training to be a Doctor?"

"Yes," he ground out. "I got all the way up to my final exams before getting expelled."

"So –you're technically trained as a doctor?" Harry asked, gently prodding at the open wound.

There was a pause. "Yes. I am."

_The wounds were precise, locating the organs within and making accurate incisions and lacerations across the body._

Harry stared down at the man as he crouched down and continued to smooth down the matted brown hair of the daemon wriggling and grappling awkwardly in the nest. He tried to make sense of the information he was being given. Was there a connection to all of this? Was it possible that the Ripper was also trained to be a doctor? It wouldn't surprise him; very few men actually passed the final exams. Even Ron must have struggled earlier that day. God, it seemed like a completely other life away.

Standing a little straighter, Harry tried to contain his nerves and appear somewhat confident as he addressed the crouching gentleman before him. "Sirius, sir, I'm afraid he'd too far gone. Nothing can be done for him in this state."

"Do not condemn this man for what he is!" Sirius snarled.

"I'm not!" Harry snapped back, his raised voice having a strange effect on the creature. Its ears pricked as though listening for his next move, its nostrils flared and it stilled in the dim light. It was unnerving to watch those tar-black eyes swivel around to face him. Lowering his voice, Harry tried to keep his muscles from quaking. "Look at him, sir. He is barely even human at this point. He wasn't able to complete his … his …  _transformation_."

The word sounded awful and alien on his tongue.

"He's as human as you or I!" Sirius spat.

"I'm –I'm so sorry, Sirius, but … I don't know anyone with eyes like that. Or ears or hands or elongated feet with claws." Tentatively, he reached out and put –what he hoped was –a consoling hand on the older man's shoulder. "You need to let him go."

"I promised him I'd do all I could," Sirius murmured, his lips barely moving as he squeezed the long, clawed fingers of the were-beast. It was such a tender embrace that Harry found himself recoiling just a little. "Can't you at least look at him? Properly? A secondary opinion, if you will?"

"A secondary opinion would be from Snape, and I haven't the faintest idea where he's gone."

"I see."

Harry pursed his lips and was just on the verge of turning his back on the scene and leaving the house entirely, when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. There, under the staircase, was a horrible old bathtub. It was rusted and discoloured from disuse –but perhaps it would serve its purpose. Biting on his lower lip, he raked a hand through his hair and fought the vision that flashed at the back of his mind.

_A stone circular vault under the townhouse … garlic and herbs hanging from every corner of the ceiling … a large tub with milky liquid within … the pungeant scent of wolfsbane in the air …_

"Is there a well around here?" he found himself asking before he banished the idea.

"Around the back of the house. Why?"

"I –I might have an idea –but it's dangerous. We'll need to act fast."

Sirius, clearly perked up by any remedy good or bad, rose from the floor. "What do you need?" he asked pragmatically.

"We'll need a lot of water to heat up and to bring that old tub upstairs."

Sirius cast a filthy look at the offending object but didn't voice his concerns. Instead he inclined his head and turned towards the staircase. "I shall see what can be done for you."

Without another word he disappeared.

 

 

As the door clicked shut, Harry's momentary relief was extinguished by the panting and ragged breathing of the beast in the corner. Its wet breath panted against the candle, casting long, squiggly shadows to dance around the room. He felt fear and adrenaline spike through his heart.

Curiosity got the better of him, he couldn't deny, as he carefully crossed the room, slowly. The black eyes followed him, unblinking, as he crouched down a little farther than Sirius had been. He had no desire to cradle the beast's paw in his hands. However, he did push his glasses up his nose and inspect the creature in the light of the quivering flame. Its skin was like mottled tissue paper, pulled tight over a disfigured skeleton. It was like the one they'd cracked open and studied in one of his earlier lectures; the jawline was too long for any normal mans but too square and strong to be anything other than a wolf. The eyes were wide, almost as large as his own fist, and completely black and hostile. The teeth were short but sharp and yellowed with poor hygiene and blood. The forehead was far too large and streaked with dirt and sweat, adding a strange swollen appearance to the animal. The ears, too, were far too large and pointed for a human skull, even one as currently mishapen as this beasts.

The odour of old meat on his breath was enough to make Harry heave.

He stood up on stiff legs and backed away, drawing in the dank, musty air around him. His lungs protested and his injured arm itched and burned under his bandages. He pressed down on the wound, relishing the sting, before eyeing the shuffling creature behind him. He had another idea, one he hadn't tested or made any sort of brew for, one he wasn't sure would even work. He'd looked it up in an old German text –or rather the other components that had failed –and was positive he's isolated the key ingredient that could help in such a dire matter.

The vials weighed down in his breast pocket.

It would be worth a try at least.

He just hoped Sirius didn't have his hopes raised.

" _HARRY?"_  a voice called from above. " _THE WATER IS BOILING! WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED?_ "

Casting a wary glance at the beast in its nest –that was currently sat on its side like a dog listening to its master's voice –he replied, "I NEED YOU TO HELP ME CARRY THE TUB UP!"

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

The swollen moon hung in its almost-full state just over the horizon. It glowed a deep, luscious yellow colour and peaked in and out between clouds. Behind the house, Sirius and Harry had set up the bathtub in an old patch of barren dirt. Sirius had stood back, watching with interest as Harry tried to recreate the candles in the patterns he'd seen in his dream. It was difficult reliving such a moment when the thought alone made him queasy.

Still, he pressed on.

Once the patterns were made, they filled the tub with hot water. Harry mixed in as much garlic ans aconite as he could find in the house –a surprising amount considering the rarity of the herb –and let it mix into the water. By the light of over a hundred candles, he nodded his head for Sirius to go and bring the beast up. As soon as Sirius disappeared inside the house, Harry pulled out one of the small vials in his breast pocket. It wasn't one of his experiments –this was something else entirely. Something that cost a fair bit to aquire.

Silver flakes.

He only put a pinch into the bathwater. It bubbled and frothed a little, the bubbles burning a pale violet colour in the moonlight. His stomach knotted. There was no way to know if this would work. He'd read up about the properties of metal in an archaic little journal, easily overlooked.

Grunting broke the natural silence.

Whipping around, Harry watched as the creature –easily seven or eight feet tall –as it loped awkwardly on its misshapen legs, it's grotesquely long arms draped over Sirius' shoulders. Harry suppressed a grimace as best he could, before backing away to the other side of the bathtub. Without a word, Sirius gingerly coaxed the creature into the frothy water.

As soon as its elongated foot sank below the murky surface, it thrashed wildly. It tried to wrestle away but it appeared to be fairly weak in its current state. Sirius, despite his crooning and gentle words, had no issue in manhandling the beast into the tub. He yelped and groaned as water sloshed over the sides, soaking the clothes and the dirt floor. Grinding his teeth together he slung heavy chains over the top.

Harry grabbed them and pinned them down.

Submerged, the creature frothed and foamed at the mouth, its jaw snapping around the chains, teeth on metal grating through the air. Grinding his teeth together, he grabbed a vial from his pocket and caught Sirius' gaze as he struggled, his arms in the tub keeping the creature under. Only its snapping jaw could be seen.

"Try and steady his mouth!" Harry ordered. "I need him to drink this!" He held up the vial.

"Will it work?" Sirius barked.

"I don't know!"

There was a pregnant pause in which Harry almost expected the older man to change his mind. He was surprised again when he saw Sirius dig his thumbs between the snapping jaws –Harry took note that he still wore his thick gloves –and pried the disfigured mouth apart, exposing the mouth and back of the throat. As quickly as he could, Harry clumsily tipped the vial over the jaws. He tried to make sure all of the liquid went down but it was difficult to tell with the amount of bathwater splashing around.

A cold wind gushed around them.

Candles flickered in the breeze but didn't go out.

The beast stopped struggling for a moment. It choked the liquid down and stilled. Harry held his breath, not wanting to trust anything for a moment. Just like that, the silent night was ripped apart around them by the howling. It tore through the darkness and echoed out into the distance. It was the most heartbreaking sound that Harry had ever heard. It vibrated through his bones, threatening to make them shatter.

The thrashing started again.

"What's happening?" Harry asked, feeling guilt surge through him like hot oil. He felt useless; he was meant to be the one with the knowledge yet he was completely clueless. Everything they witnessed henceforth would be ground-breaking for all of them.

Sirius wasn't listening to him, however.

He was too focused on the werewolf.

Snarling and agitated the wolf tried to attack Sirius' arms and hands but the man was protected and, though he struggled too, was strong and more agile. Against the howling of the choking beast, Harry was able to make out the voice of the older man. "Remus Lupin listen to me! I am your friend! You are not this animal! This heart is where you truly live! This heart, here!"

With a forceful shove, Sirius shoved the beast under, his fist over his chest.

"Remus Lupin you are human! You are just as human as I!"

Another shove. More splashes and guttural gurgles.

"REMUS LUPIN!" his voice called out through the other noise drowning it out as she wolf disappeared to the bottom of the bath. Sirius' head nearly rested on the rim. He was shaking. "… Come back to me."

Another gust of wind tore at their clothes.

Harry hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath until the thrashing stopped. Everything stilled. The water bubbled and rippled, calming itself like a creamy lilac pool. Letting out his breath, he was suddenly all too aware of his heart hammering against his tight rib-cage. His brain caught up with the reality of the situation and he started to sweat profusely despite the cold. Swallowing thickly, he stood upright and peered down towards the bathtub.

Nothing stirred.

Sirius' arm was hanging limply in the water, his head bowed forward and his shoulders hunched. Harry cleared his throat, the sound echoing loudly in his ears. "Sirius …?" He didn't know what he wanted to ask. He didn't even understand what was actually going on, in that moment.

The silence screamed around them.

Every breath was a thunderclap.

A tremor ran down Harry's spine. Tears pricked in his eyes. Had he done it? Had he killed a man? An innocent? His stomach churned inside him. He sank down on the ground, wincing as gravel bit through his trousers and pressed into his buttocks. Raking hands through his greasy hair he felt as though he was going to vomit through his own guilt. What had he done? Just as he was preparing a speech in his head for Sirius and how this was clearly the best thing for that creature something broke the smooth surface of the bath water.

A bubble?

A white hand shot out. It was as white as a bone, the nails long and grey. Sirius and Harry fell back, away from the tub as the fingers latched around the rim of the tub. The lilac liquid had congealed, growing thick like a skin across the top. It stretched like an amniotic sac as the body of a man slowly rose out in a hunched position. The lilac substance broke away, sliding off the skin as the creature tossed its head back, gasping desperately for air. Harry stared, horrified, as the now human mouth stretched and gasped for air, its emaciated body shuddering and quaking as the substance oozed off and into the tub.

Before Harry could comprehend what had happened, Sirius shot forward towards the tub, his arms instantly wrapping around the skeletal man, holding his head upright to breathe properly. "Remus?" he breathed, his voice breaking with hysteria. "Is –is it really you?"

The other man was too weak to reply. His head lulled forward against Sirius' chest, staining his brocade waistcoat. Harry had never seen a gentleman ignore such a thing before now.

Harry remained paralysed as he watched Sirius use his shirtsleeves to scrub the sticky matter off of Remus' face. He scrubbed his eyes clear and tugged it out of his hair. With great difficulty, Remus was lifted up and out of the bathtub, his bony limbs striking against the metal sides, making Harry wince at the sound. He flopped onto the floor, reminding Harry of when he'd watched the village cows giving birth, before Sirius draped his jacket over the scrawny shoulders. A hacking cough grated through the air.

"HARRY GO AND GET A FIRE STARTED!"

Harry obliged, feeling like a scared child being shooed away from an adult conversation with the promise of puzzles and sweets. The escape was a relief; he felt unbearably useless, guilty and responsible in equal measure. It made him feel sick. In the dark house, he forced his cold, stiff fingers to arrange a fire in the grate. Five burned-out matches later and the tinder finally caught light. It took a while for the fire to get going but once it did, Harry busied himself with tidying up the front parlour, clapping dust out of the cushions and forcing all the furniture closer to the hearth, wincing as it squeaked against the worn, splintered floorboards.

He crouched on his haunches for a while, watching as the flames leapt and swallowed the branches whole, crackling and spitting out warmth that he'd missed. His mind was a numb sponge inside his head; slowly trying to absorb what had just happened without understanding a single moment.

 

 

Remus banged into the room, startling Harry to his feet, his body hanging from Sirius' neck. He was naked except for Sirius' overcoat that hung off him. Together, they managed to get Remus collapsed over onto the sofa. A small dust cloud puffed out as he dropped onto it, nearly rolling off onto the floor. The curly-haired man kept him grounded on the sofa and re-positioned the coat over Remus' private areas. Harry found himself flushing a little and turning his gaze away.

' _Look at what you did!_ ' his brain admonished. ' _You brought a man back from a demonic state! You did well!_ '

Harry found that he couldn't take pride in the moment. Maybe he still wasn't sure what had happened or able to understand. Peering over the rim of his glasses he watched as Sirius smoothed the damp hair back, slicking it to Remus' skull, and pulling a thin, grubby blanket over the lower portion of his companion's body.

Turning his dark gaze to the young man crouched before them he said; "Thank you, Harry. You've done me a great service."

"I took great risks," Harry found himself saying, the words bitter, his mouth moving of its own accord. "For all we know, I could have just as easily have poisoned him."

Sirius pursed his lips in understanding. "Regardless, whatever you did seems to have worked."

Harry sighed wearily, not wanting to argue the matter anymore. Remus appeared to be his 'normal self' as he drew in deep, laboured breaths against the flat, sofa cushions. Even in the firelight he looked like a complete wreck of a man; his hair was mousy and thinning –even slicked back with the potion –his skin stretched tight over his skeleton and his eyes were sunken. Dark bruises were around his eyes and his ribs poked out. Even through the overcoat the bulbs of his spinal cord could be faintly seen.

They sat in silence. Harry slumped back against the armchair, the weight of the entire situation pressing down on the back of his skull and shoulders. It felt as though his cranium was about to shatter and explode. He cradled his face in his head and pressed against the burn of sleep-deprivation. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched as Sirius loomed over Remus' deflated body. It was such a tender image, the way he carded his fingers through the slippery hair, down the hidden neck and over the covered arms. He squeezed the turned man's limp hands as he struggled to breathe against the cloying dust.

"Will he … be okay?" Harry asked lamely. He was completely out of his depth.

"He just needs rest," Sirius stated in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone.

Harry draped his arms across his knees and watched as Sirius doted on the unconscious man sprawled before them. He tucked him up to make sure he was kept warm before the sun rose through the slat blinds. He offered a drink at some point but Harry didn't remember. He wasn't even sure if he'd even responded.

It was all such a blank.

He just kept staring at Remus. He looked like such a normal, humble man. A quiet schoolteacher perhaps? A mild-mannered merchant? He looked like everything the beast had not; he looked calm, gentle, concise and conservative in his ways. The only real indication that he'd been through such a traumatising ordeal at all, were the lacerations marring his complexion. Some were deep and raw, bruising heavily around the edges in a myriad of colours from dark pink to yellow and green. Others were pale lines that glowed silvery in the soft glow.

As the sky paled through the slats in the blinds, he felt his raw eyes grow tired and his eyelids droop. His head tipped backwards. Noises faded to white noise in the far distance. He didn't care anymore. For the moment, the imminent danger had passed and that was all that mattered. He'd figure out the ins and outs of it later, after some sleep. Dragging himself up into the sad little armchair, he tucked his legs underneath his own, his own cold skin making his insides churn.

' _I'll warm up soon_  …' he thought to himself as he burrowed down, trying to get comfortable.

With the conflicting sounds of Remus' laboured breathing, the soft, crackling of the fire and Sirius' erratic pacing in the hallway, Harry drifted into a troubled, dreamless sleep.


	19. 28th August 1888 Part II

**_~0~_ **

**_Saturday 28th October 1888_ **

**_~Part II~_ **

 

 

 

Harry sat bolt upright in a panic. He was dripping with sweat and panting. He checked his head, neck, body and legs before gradually willing his heart to calm.

Peering around himself in the feeble shafts of sunlight pouring in through the slat blinds, he frowned. It took his brain a few moments to completely understand where he was, however as soon as it did, he sprang from the chair. Fear played a concerto down his spine as he spun in circles, trying to organise his thoughts. His eyes fell upon the sofa; it was empty. Not even a crumpled blanket was left in its place.

His breathing grew erratic.

' _What the hell is going on?_ ' he thought, backing away from the sofa as though it had teeth. ' _Where is everyone?_ '

Tearing through the rest of the house, floorboards creaked and splintered heavily under his weight as he checked the dusty rooms upstairs. All were empty and draped in dust-covers. It looked as though every room were crowded with the victims of that beast –Remus, he corrected himself –all rooms were in that manner. There was one final room at the end of the hallway; it didn't have any dust-sheets in it, but it still made for a sombre bedchamber. The colours were muted and it looked like a hasty set-up at best. As though neither of the two mysterious men had been living in the run-down house for long.

Gripping the doorway in his hands, he didn't know how to feel about being left stranded in a run-down house outside of London. At least there was no immediate danger –right? The house was silent around him. Only the quiet sounds of countryside twittered outside the windows. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. So –why didn't he feel as though he was safe?

' _Get out of here!_ ' his brain hissed sharply.

He whipped around, eyes scanning the dimly lit hallways, rooms and back kitchen. Everything was quiet and still. There were jumbled prints in the dust but other than that, nothing else had been disturbed. Pressing his lips together Harry managed to locate his cloak and jacket slung carefully over the edge of a beaten chair in the small kitchen. Quickly shrugging into it, the worst of the cold ebbing away, Harry was about to leave when he noticed a note on the table top. Peering closer he saw his name scrawled on the front. Opening it up, he read;

 

_'Harry,_

_I'm sorry to have left you but Remus needed to be taken somewhere more secure. He panicked about being exposed so I drugged him and took him to another location._

_He'll be fine._

_In the meantime I have left you some money for a train back into London. Take the rest of it and brew as much of that formula as possible. If I am able to help in anyway, I'll find you._

_God be with you._

_Sirius_ '

 

Harry frowned at the last sentence. Sirius hadn't seemed like a particularly religious man, however after the nightmare of the previous evening, Harry had to admit that God had to be real. There was nothing more terrifying than believing he resided on a planet with devilish beasts without a God somewhere out there, watching over his immortal soul.

Tucking the note and money into the pocket of his jacket, Harry spun on his heel and marched himself out of the front door.

In the pale daylight, grey clouds blocking most of the sunlight from his vision, Harry stared up at the house once he was a safe enough distance away from it. Just being outside and on the road in front of it had him breathing a little easier, a little calmer. It was such a rundown old house that it was a wonder the strong gale-force wind hadn't forced the roof to cave in on itself. It looked like a horrid black smudge on the bleak terrain, all the shrubbery around the house had overgrown on itself and dried up completely, leaving nothing but brown ivy vines threading over one side of the house –and in some cases through a few of the windows –as well as old trees that had long since stopped bearing fruit.

Fingering the money is his pocket, he reluctantly turned his back on the dilapidated house and decided to turn right at the road and walk up. Hopefully at the top of the hill he'd be able to see which direction a town was and, from there, get a train into London. It was probably a long walk back and he'd have more chance of asking for a lift from a passer-by, but something told him that carriages didn't frequent this particular road.

With a sigh, he began making tracks.

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

By midday Harry had managed to make his way back to London. He took a small detour before returning to Draco's townhouse, stopping in at Ollivander's apothecary to pick up some more of the ingredients he needed to create more of his formula as instructed. Not that he was doing so for money or Sirius or anything of the like. He needed to do it for himself, above all else. Thankfully, the old man had exactly what he needed in stock, including the powdered silver. He hadn't been sure what had worked –the potion that included the silver or just tossing a raw pinch directly into the bathwater –but he was determined to replenish his reserves just in case.

The last thing he needed was to run out of silver for whatever reason.

Back in the relative comfort of the townhouse, Harry tried to organise his scattered thoughts. Some tea helped to drive the chill from his aching limbs. Once calmed and perched at the large mahogany desk with his work and recipes spread out before him, Harry retrieved the empty vial to see which one he had tipped in. On the cork, he had inked a number '3'. Flipping through his journal he came to the pages he'd written down each recipe and the actions taken to brew each one.

Good.

He had a starting point.

Now, the potion had worked but its effectiveness could have been put down to simply Remus being a half-fledged werewolf at the time of consumption. It wasn't guaranteed that it was able to cure anything or if it had merely forced the consumer's body into an original state; since Remus had been closer to human at the time his body had needed to be reconfigured to his basic shape before being able to render him as harmless as possible.

Frowning he pondered, ' _Had it even been a cure? How do I know it would work again? Being in a half-fledged state looked to be soul-detroying. As though something feasted on the physical body while the mind continued to burn with the unholy daemon within_.'

His skin crawled at the thought.

As he cast his eyes around the room, he felt his shoulders sag. The entire house was far too big for him to be comfortable with. It had been different with Draco. Somehow he'd driven the emptiness out of all those vacant spaces, or made them immaterial to the present moment. Now, all Harry could feel were those large vacuous rooms panelled in wood, like a hundred coffins awaiting him behind every door.

"Draco," he breathed out slowly, "Where did you go? Why did you leave without telling me?"

What was so important that he hadn't been able to stick around and help Harry when he was on the brink of a breakthrough? He rubbed a hand over his mouth and sighed, trying to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. He had to brew the potion just so, otherwise it would be rendered useless. He couldn't afford to tip the brew down the drain.

 

 

 

He worked long into the night.

He forced himself to keep going until he could barely concentrate and the potion needed to sit for twelve hours before he added the last of the ingredients. Pulling the door of the study to, Harry finally retreated back to his bedchamber, his eyes red and raw from being awake for too long. It was a wonder he'd been able to focus at all considering he'd barely slept for four hours last night.

As he made his way down the corridor and across the landing he stopped short at the top of the stairs. Through the large ornate window, a thick shaft of silver moonlight bled into the hall, bathing everything in is corporeal glow. He stared up at it, the light magnified by his new glasses. It was like the moon was calling out to him, soothing the madness that buzzed within his skull.

His fingers twitched, as though aching to reach out for something.

The wound on his arm started to throb.

Grinding his back teeth, he forced his eyes away from the moon and finally felt like he was able to breathe again. Keeping his head bent low, he made his way down the dark corridor until he came to his bedchamber and went inside. Shutting the thick velvet curtains against the brilliant moon, Harry undressed with frantic hands. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end as he lit a candle in his undergarments. Perching himself on the edge of the bed, he braced himself against his knees and took a few deep, calming breaths. It still caught him off-guard ever so often, as he took note of the décor and the oppulance of the house.

Draco had expensvie taste or at least, Snape did.

The entire house oozed of the finer things, money, and decadence to such a degree that Harry felt uncomfortable looking at it for too long. Or maybe that was his paranoia stemming from the moonbeams pressing up against the curtains, like phantoms desperate to slide into the room as he slept.

' _Stop it!_ ' he chastised himself. ' _You don't need to work yourself up! There's nothing to be afraid of!_ '

Changing into a nightshirt, he climbed in between the cool sheets and settled back on the pillows, ignoring the sad butterflies that flickered in his stomach. It had been a long time since he and Draco had shared the bed but it was a fond memory. Just looking at the expanse of empty bedding on his left side made him crave the blonde's touch even more.

All too soon, the events of the day caught up to him and he passed out, the weight of the full moon still humming in his head.

The following morning Harry managed to wake up on his own. It seemed like a rarity these days. Usually Joan or Jensen would knock on his door and inform him that breakfast was being served. It made him nervous whenever either of them did it, since he wasn't the master of the household.

Maybe they'd finally gotten the message.

Taking his time, he washed, shaved and made sure his spring black hair was as neat as possible before getting dressed and making his way down to the dining room. For a brief moment, Harry worried that there would be nothing to it, but the thought was soon quelled when he saw a piping hot plate waiting for him. He ate quickly and quietly, his mind already itching to continue with brewing the medicine and get it bottled up before lunchtime. Joan appeared just as he was heading towards the kitchen with a tray of his things. She blushed and apologised that she hadn't been there, over and over, until Harry assured her that it was fine.

She took the tray from him and scuttled off, her cheeks glowing red and she descended the few steps down into the kitchen.

On his way towards the main staircase, Harry halted when he caught site of the mail waiting on a sidetable in the entrance hall. Frowning he looked down at the envelope with his name scrawled on the front in elegant script. Was this from Sirius? His heart sank. He hadn't given either man much thought since returning to the townhouse and he felt guilty that this was the case. Turning the envelope over, he tore it open and unfolded the thick parchment inside. It wasn't from Sirius; that was both a relief and a concern.

It was from Snape.

 

' _Mr. Potter,_

_Please attend a lecture at St. Bartholomew's hospital at 10PM on the 28th October. Be punctual._

_Snape'_

 

It was blunt, barely even worth the effort of parchment and envelope, but it was a request he wouldn't be able to ignore. It had been over two weeks since Snape had postponed their lectures and now he was calling an emergency one for  _that_  evening? Harry felt his chest grow tight. This was perfect timing, surely? He'd found some sort of way for a werebeast to be rendered relatively harmless. All he needed to do was take Snape to one side after the lecture, show him his findings and proceed from there!

' _How will you tell him the draught is effective if you can't tell him about Remus?_ ' his mind queried.

"I can just say that I used it on myself and the wound started to heal."

 _'But you haven't used it on yourself so you don't know._ '

Harry frowned, dimly aware that he was talking to himself. Tucking the note into his pocket he made his way upstairs to continue working. At the very least, he needed to have some vials filled and stoppered properly before even considering telling Snape of his current findings.

As the day wore on Harry found himself glancing at the ornate clock on the mantelpiece. It was hard to ignore its ticking and the grandfather clock down the hall didn't help matters as it announced every hour. He ate lunch with Joan, insisting that he didn't care if she ate with him and that he'd much rather prefer the company. She'd looked at a loss at his words but had gingerly sat herself across from him, her mannerisms tight and precise for the first ten minutes before she finally relaxed. It had been a nice change of pace at any rate, and she genuinely seemed interested in the work Harry was slaving over, even if she didn't understand some of the more complex terminology.

Harry was glad; he felt as though they'd connected on a deeper level.

Once all the potion had been poured into vials, flasks and anything else he could get his hands on that were made of glass, he stoppered them all, labelled them and then found that he had nothing more to do for the time being. It felt oddly dissatisfying to have accomplished a rare feat and not have anyone to acknowledge it other than himself. It left him feeling hollow. Would Draco have been proud of him or would he have admired in a distant way? Would he have been able to help Harry with testing everything on the mice? Harry had fed each of them five drops each of the potion and none had perished. They'd just become really sleepy and slow in their movements.

It was something but Harry didn't think it would be enough for Snape's approval. All it would do was prove that the medicine wasn't poisonous. That was hardly ground-breaking. It didn't mean that it did what Harry claimed it could –not without dragging Remus and Sirius into the matter.

Before he knew it, it was 8PM.

He ate a quick, cold dinner, made sure he packed his research materials and journals into his satchel before hurrying out of the house. He took Draco's carriage through the narrow streets to the hospital and pressed a silver coin into the driver's hand and told him to have a drink on him, the lecture would most likely take a while. Harry just hoped he remained sober enough by the time he was let out.

 

 

 

The lecture hall hadn't changed at all. It was still dull, gloomy and stinking of beeswax and formaldehyde. His eyebrows rose in surprise when he saw that Blaise had returned to the lecture with a grim sort of determination in his dark eyes. He wasn't going to be told 'no' by the likes of someone like Slughorn that much was obvious. Harry edged into the front row, noting that his glasses didn't require him to squint as much, before taking out his notebook and quill. On the raised platform in the centre of the theatre, there was a large cage covered with a grubby cloth. Something clinked within but before anyone would start murmuring among themselves, Snape swept into the room like a giant bat, his robes billowing in a non-existent breeze. He came to rest against the podium, looked perhaps a little thinner in the face but otherwise unchanged by his time away.

"At least you all made it on time," he drawled after a few moments of tense silence as his black eyes loomed on each of their faces. "I trust your studies have been productive."

No one replied.

Something clanged in the cage following by deep, heavy panting. That provoked some murmurs and worried glances at the covered thing. Snape appeared unaffected. "Now," he drawled, "I'm sure you're all wondering what I've brought back with me from my travels." Harry swallowed thickly, his skin prickling with piping hot fear. He'd heard similar sorts of noises before, very recently in fact, and the dread that pooled in his stomach only made matters worse. Snape paced before them, his black robes sweeping against the marble floor. "I was able to discover information about the werewolf culture and various alleged cures that would make your minds –sing –with the impossibility of it all. However," he paused to lace his fingers together. "None of that is important, for I was able to procure something  _far_  more valuable."

With a swift tug, the cloth fell away.

A collective gasp shattered the silence as the looked upon the foul creature within.

Harry felt physically sick at what he saw.

Crouched low in the cage, resting on its haunches and the obscenely long forearms was another half-fledged werewolf. It had somehow gotten stuck midway through a transformation. It was grotesque; of course Harry had seen something akin to this creature the previous evening –had it really only been then? –and was not as stricken at the rest of his classmates. It was still a ghastly sight. Its skull looked as though it had been pressed sideways against two slabs of metal, its jaw looked askew as one side was a human jaw, the other side was a wolf jaw, and it melded in the middle. The hair was pressed thinly and flat in streaks against its veiny skin, and its black eyes flickered around the room without comphrehension. Saliva dribbled from the too-big tongue lulling out of the mouth.

It was a grotesque parody of a human face.

Neville had vomited on the bench infront of him. No one blamed him –they were too transfixed by the beast before them to care. Harry was frozen in his seat, cold sweat staining his feverish muscles. His mind was running at a million miles a minute as he tried to remember how to breathe. Snape had done something almost impossible. He'd managed to capture a werebeast. The only viable explanation was that he'd managed to poison or hinder the creature; there were lacerations and oozing wounds scattered across the pale, greasy skin like pock marks.

The creature loped from one side of its cage to the other, barely even moving in half-circles as it panted and pawed at the steel base with its long nails. The sound set Harry's teeth on edge.

It turned and stuck its half-formed muzzle through the bars.

Harry's breath hitched.

He'd known there was something disturbingly familiar about the creature, only made more evident now as it had turned its more human side of its face toward him. He could recognise the ghost of the cheekbones, the dip in the earlobe and the distinct colour of the eyes as the blackness dripped like black tears out of the socket. Shock started to wrack through his body, jerking his muscles and making his jaw tremble with the pressure to fight against the tears and rage and despair warring within him. Turning his attention to Snape, he found that the man was staring down at him with narrowed, unblinking eyes watching. Waiting. There was no doubt in his mind that he knew what he'd done. Perhaps not at the time of wounding and mutilating the beast, but it all became clear as the moons effects dwindled.

Yesterday had been the first full moon.

Tonight was the second.

All the while the beast had been starved of both sunlight and moonlight, making the transformation back to his human state painfully slow and torturous. Proven by the black tears slowly dripping down the gaunt cheek. Harry wondered how anyone could do such a thing to another human being. How could someone make another human being live through a brutally slow reformation of their very skeleton? Harry looked up at the man and stared hard into his blank, black eyes. ' _How could you?'_ he raged silently.

He looked back at the cage just as the beast raised its muzzle as high as it could and let out a long, mournful how.

' _No, not the beast_ ,' his mind pierced through the rage. ' _Draco._ '

Not the beast.

Draco.

_Draco._


	20. 29th October 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Sunday 29th October 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

 

It was Draco.

The beast was Draco.

That was the only thing running through Harry's mind once he'd connected the dots in his mind. His body was exuding sweat and his mind was a hot, crystal clear mess. He curled his hands into fists, nails digging sharp crescents into his palms. The small bite of pain wasn't enough for him to tear his eyes from the salivating creature before his eyes. Around him the faint hush of his classmates murmuring started up and –for once –Snape didn't silence them. He wanted to watch them squirm.

The creature –No, Draco! –shifted in the cage, it's long, flat claws snaking through the bars. One eyes was still tar-black and the other was a murky grey colour, a black streak running down the cheek.

' _Draco_ ,' he thought, wishing that the creature had some way of hearing his thoughts. ' _What's happened to you? Why didn't you tell me?_ ' His stomach bubbled inside him. He felt emotions warring away inside him, but none more than the surge of protectiveness he felt as the hunched over beast, slobbering down its front with soft whines echoing out of its gaping mouth.

"Sir, what do you expect us to do with this creature?" Neville asked.

"We're going to study it," the Professor stated, his lips barely moving as his black eyes lazily slid back over to the beast. "We're going to study it and see if any of the old rituals worked."

Harry's stomach clenched. He'd read those old books, inhaled the dust and ignorance that bled into the ink. None of those rituals had had any distinct results, other than a mutilated corpse that needed to be burned. Snape couldn't do that, could he? Not to his own nephew? Surely there were limits to the man's thirst for success among all else?

"Is that what we're doing tonight?" Blaise drawled, his interest piqued.

"No," Severus swept his gaze over them. "I just want you to observe. Take notes, make observations and let it aid your studies."

It was more than that. Harry could tell by the way Snape had dangled something so strange and hideous in front of their eyes. This was a test; he was testing their limits as well as their loyalty. He was also most likely trying to trap Harry into revealing everything and anything he knew.

He was tempted.

It was blatantly a trap for information –but he couldn't risk anyone else in the room recognising Draco. Not in this state! It would ruin him forever! Chewing the inside of his cheek, Harry tried to tune everything else out as Snape droned on in the usual slow, congealing rhythm. Maybe if he stayed behind after class and spoke to Snape privately in his office? It was the only way he'd be able to buy Draco some more time, for what he didn't know, but he just couldn't risk having Draco exposed naked and covered in his own faeces.

Sweat tricked down the back of his neck.

He couldn't subject Draco to such a fate as describe in those books. Not after everything the older man had one for him, taking him in, letting him live at his townhouse and offering to help fund his research and experiments. There needed to be another way. Harry felt himself slip into a daze completely stunned by what was going on around him. He was both pumped with adrenaline, wanting to dive across the wooden benches, rip the cage open and let Draco run out into the open streets, and at the same time he was rooted to the spot and stiff with fear and what might happen if he were found out.

The bell chimed in the courtyard.

Slowly and nervously, all six of the other men gathered their belongings and made for the door. All eyes kept darting back over their shoulders to look at the beast panting in the cage. No one wanted to turn their backs on it for long. As soon as the doors closed, Snape turned his black gaze to Harry. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Mr. Potter?"

Harry held his gaze and squared his shoulders. "I was actually hoping to speak with you, sir," he stated in a measured tone. "I have some queries regarding my personal study and I was hoping to gain some insights from you." He needed to keep himself calm. There was no telling who lurked in the hospital grounds at such a late hour. Any mere mention of Draco's name could easily be printed in the papers within the next twenty-four hours.

Harry wasn't sure if the professor acknowledged his concerns in the same light, or if he simply wanted to extract as much information from his student as possible. It didn't matter in that moment. Keeping Draco safe and alive as long as possible was the focal point.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," Snape inclined his head, "Let us reconvene in my office."

Clutching his satchel tightly under his arm, Harry moved down onto the theatre floor and moved across the open air, feeling the sweat grow cold and irritable on his skin. He passed so close to the cage he could smell the rot of flesh, shit and blood. Bile shot up his throat. He choked it back down. He kept his eyes focused on the tiled floor, fearing that if he looked up into those mismatches eyes, all his bottled up energy would emerge in a violent, feral rage. Then nothing would be a secret.

 

 

The tight, dank office hadn't changed since the last time Harry had set food in there. It was still yellowing and damp, like a lot of the long-forgotten books in the local library, but there were a larger number of journals and papers littering the desktop in an orderly fashion. Not like the mess Harry had created throughout Draco's study before he'd –left.

Shutting the door behind himself, Harry turned to address Snape. The man stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed against his chest, looking down his long nose at his student. As soon as the door clicked firmly shut, Harry's resolve exploded. Shutting the door behind himself, Harry turned to address Snape. The man stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed against his chest, looking down his long nose at his student. As soon as the door clicked firmly shut, Harry's resolve exploded. "HE'S YOUR NEPHEW!" he spat, every vein pressing up to his skin, flushing him ugly shades of red all over. The room blurred out, leaving only Snape as the focus point for his hatred. "HOW CAN YOU DO THAT TO YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD? HE'S YOUR  _NEPHEW_!"

"I'm aware of that."

"ARE YOU?" Harry sneered. "THEN TELL ME WHY HE'S CHAINED UP IN THAT CAGE!"

"I don't see how you'd have missed it," Snape curled his upper lip in distaste. "He's currently not in possession of his mental faculties. He'd tear your spine out through your mouth given the chance."

Harry flinched but wasn't deterred. "You don't know that!" he urged. "He's in a half-formed state! He's not dangerous likebefore!"

"Perhaps not compared to his full lycanthropic state, no," Snape conceded. "However, he is still stronger than any mortal man alive today. It's too dangerous."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't let you perform those rituals on him!" Harry snapped, positioning himself in front of the door, as though Severus were about to take seven holy daggers and drive them through the flesh of his nephew upstairs. "They will kill him! There's so many other avenues to explore!"

"Why do you think I was gone so long?" Snape groused. "I tried them all."

This was it.

Snape stopped midstep and turned his narrowed gaze upon Harry.

Air trapped in his lungs, Harry tried to focus on the pattern of the tiles underfoot.

"What do you mean by that?" Snape asked slowly, his tone betraying nothing.

"While you were away," Harry's voice tremored a little as he dug his nails into his satchel. The leather was pockmarked with half-crescents, a true sign of his nerves and inner turmoil. "I created a series of medicinal draughts that have healing properties for those afflicted by lycanthropy."

Snape cocked a black eyebrow. "And how were you able to test their effects without a werewolf?"

"I … I came across one last week." It was a small lie, twisting the timeline, but Harry feared for Remus' exposure only a little less than Draco's.

"How … convenient for you."

"It was a coincidence, sir. However, I was able to test one of my experiments. It seemed to have worked, although I can't be sure how long-lasting the effects were."

"Why not?"

"I fell asleep. By the time I woke up, everyone had scarpered."

"I see."

Harry finally looked up at Snape's drawn features. "Please, sir? We can at least give it a try? It can't do any more harm than keeping him locked up like a savage animal."

"It's for his own good," Snape stated. "That cage has silver embedded in it. If he tried to break out he'll be burned."

"Is that what silver does to them?" Harry murmured, momentarily awestruck and sickened. He'd doused Remus in silver; had the poor man felt as though he were being burned alive in that bathtub?

Severus didn't comment. Instead he sighed wearily. "I suppose at the very least, there is no real harm in giving one of your concoctions a trial-run. He's been kept awake for some fifty-eight hours already. Another trivial attempt to render him weakened in his current form."

Harry pursed his lips. Despite how primitive the torture had been, there was now denying that not getting a set number of hours sleep a night severely impaired one's mental faculties and basic motor functions. There was some minor logic to it but at the same time it wouldn't be nearly enough to render a were-beast completely harmless.

"How are we going to restrain him?" he finally asked, as he took the seat beside Snape's desk.

"We'll need a number of people to help. The mixture of scents will confuse him and it should be easy for us to be able to shackle him down."

"Will we need the shackles?" Harry frowned.

"Yes."

Harry let his chin drop into his hand. The idea of shackling Draco up was terrifying –he'd never imagined such a horrible idea! It set him on edge and made his skin hot and cloying over his skeleton. He raked a hand through his hair. Pressing his lips together, he let out a shuddering sigh. This was all too much. Just two days ago he wasn't able to tell where Draco was and was afraid of all the unknown possibilities and outcomes. Now, he wasn't sure that the reality was any better. "Does this mean that you'll have to involve the other men?" Harry finally asked, feeling exhausted.

Severus nodded. "Yes. We'll need as many men as we can get."

"What will you need me to bring?"

"A vial of the antidote as soon as you're able. I want you to explain to me exactly what you did last time and make sure that we replicate it as much as possible. If we can achieve the same results, then we may just bring Draco back from the brink."

Harry pressed his lips together.

He needed to hold onto hope.

"I'll bring as much as I can. I'll be here tomorrow at 8PM. We can go over some of the more intricate details then."

Snape inclined his head before dismissing him.

 

 

Later that night as he lie in bed staring up at the brocade canopy, Harry listened to the sounds of the night around him. He was exhausted and needed some time to rest before the following evening but he wasn't able to sleep. His mind kept turning to Draco and how things would have been if he'd stayed at the townhouse. Would he have disappeared into another room when the full moon came? Would Harry had been able to restrain him and keep himself safe? Or would Draco have ripped his throat out before disposing of the house-servants?

' _By midnight tomorrow you could have the old Draco back,_ ' his mind hummed softly. ' _You need to focus on that instead of all the negatives. You need to try and remain positive!_ '

That was easier said that done. He couldn't help but think about Sirius and Remus and their daily lives. How did one incorporate a werewolf into their life? Was it easy of difficult? What precautions needed to be taken to ensure everyone's safety? Would he have to chain Draco up in the basement? Would he needed to bind the beasts muzzle to stop it from biting him? If so, how would one do such a thing without help?

It was all so confusing and none of it made sense to him.

More than anything he missed the blonde man's company, his dry humour, the way he carried himself with grace even in the privacy of his own home. Harry felt his insides twist painfully. He needed to make sure that, no matter what happened tomorrow night, Draco would live throughout the ordeal.

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

Throughout the entire day, Harry was jittery with nerves. His mind was entirely preoccupied with the repercussions of what could go wrong that night. All he wanted to do was to rush ahead to the following morning to see if everything worked out or not. The not-knowing and anticipation was crippling. He was barely able to touch his breakfast and stressed over every detail in his journal. He didn't want Snape to criticise his work above all things right now.

' _You're doing this for Draco!_ ' his brain hissed as he bottled his latest batch of the formula.

Gently placing the stoppered bottled into the stiff doctors bag he'd bought from Ollivander. The man had insisted, saying that he'd gotten a new one for his deliveries. Nevertheless, Harry had paid him decently for the weathered case. It had been a Godsend since he had to pack as many vials as possible to take with him to the hospital that night. His hands trembled as he placed the last one in, and snapped the case closed. Stealing a glance at the clock, he felt himself tense up as he saw that it was just gone 7PM.

It was time.

Taking a carriage to the hospital, the vials twinkling softly in the case in his lap, Harry felt his heart beating heavily beneath his ribs. What if everything went wrong? He didn't want to be responsible for Draco's death. Every fear escalated itself in his mind until he was dripping in a cold sweat, his hands damp as he clutched the handle of the leather case and marched up the stone steps to the hospital. He was sure he held his breath the entire time until he knocked on Snape's office door.

" _Enter_."

Harry twisted the doorknob and walked into the office. Nothing had changed from the previous evening, except that the desk had been cleared off all the papers and journals. Harry tightened his hold on the bag handle. Placing the case on the desktop, he looked at Snape as the older man looked from the few sheets of parchment he was reading.

"Did you bring the formulas?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded. "I brought my journals as well. Hopefully you find them detailed enough to understand the thought process behind them." Snape held out as his hand. Harry dug his neatly written journals out of the bag and carefully handed them over. It felt as though he were handing over a piece of his soul. Snape didn't invite him to sit down; he merely flipped the first journal open and began to read. After a few minutes of standing awkwardly in front of the desk, Harry sat down across from his professor, placing the case gently under his chair. It was difficult as he sat there, feeling flushed and queasy as he watched the older man flipping through the book, each page turned was another nerve plucked.

After about twenty minutes he swallowed thickly. "So –what do you think?"

"This is an interesting take on the information we have," Snape stated bluntly.

"Do you think it's worth a try?"

"Considering you don't fully understand which part of the formula worked or why, I'm inclined to say it's not worth the risk." Harry felt his stomach drop. "However," Snape continued, "Despite his current state, Draco is still my nephew. I'm responsible for him. I don't want to see him die. At least, not like  _that_."

Harry didn't dare believe the words. "So –you're going to let me try it this way?"

Snape inclined his head, handing the journals back. "I don't see what we have to lose."

"So when the others come –what do we tell them? We can't tell them that it's Draco. He'd be ruined!"

Snape dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand. "That's easily taken care of. If we do manage to transform him back to his huma state, he'll be so ragged and battered no one will recognise him."

"That doesn't sound risk-free," Harry remarked.

"It's the only option we have."

In truth, Snape was right. There was no other way. That didn't mean that Harry liked the idea of risking Draco's exposure.

Within the hour Snape told Harry to remain in the office. He'd sent telegrams to the other students to arrive early so that they would have enough time to set up the ritual equipment and mentally prepare everyone for what they were about to witness. Harry waited as still as a statue as his classmates filed in one-by-one. A couple cast him a surprised glance or a frown, but didn't make any comments as Snape closed the door behind them all. He wasted no time in detailing the plan for that evening as well as cautioning the other students that they needed to wear as many thick, rubber layers as possible to prevent infection.

As he looked around the cluster of familiar faces, Harry could see that they all wore the same mask of horror and apprehension. It was bound to be a long evening and Harry was anxious that he hadn't been able to sleep. Somewhere in that building, down a series of winding corridors and narrow hallways, Draco was waiting, panting and scrabbling inside his cage, his misshapen teeth marring the inside of his mouth.

With stiff muscles, they all climbed into thick, rubber overalls, gloves, aprons and had metal collars slipped underneath their formal shirts just in case a wayward claw lashed out at them. As soon as they were all ready the door to the office opened.

Snape appeared in the doorway, a large iron ring of keys in his hands. "Follow me."

 

 

 

Filing out of the office, the group of students followed the tall dark-robed man down into the bowels of the hospital. The hallways were narrower, damper, and the air became stale and suffocating. The darkness was broken up only by the lantern Snape held aloft. He picked a key from the ring and slipped it into one of five steel doors on the basement level. At least two of them had to be the boiler rooms. The room was dark and musty as they entered, Snape taking his time to light the few torches and lanterns suspended from the ceiling. The filled the room with a sickly, yellow glow.

In the centre of the room sat the beast in its cage.

' _Draco_ ,' Harry thought. ' _He's still Draco, underneath all of that_.'

"Sir," Blaise's voice rang out in the low-ceilened room. "How exactly are you going to make that thing easy to strap down?"

"You leave that to me, Mr. Zabini."

The seven young man watched as the older man uncorked a large bottle of chloroform and soaked what looked like an old bedsheet before gingerly slinging it inside the top bars of the cage. The beast growled low in its throat and flinched as the sheet slumped down over its head, catching one of its pointed ears. It tried to shake the sheet of, but the wet fabric caught against its teeth, jaw and shoulder as it fought. Panting heavily, it wriggled around on all-fours, slobbering and pawing at its head to no avail. As it did this, Snape sloshed more of the chloroform through the bars, dousing the marred skin of the creature within.

It took at least eight minutes before the werewolf was subdued.

Harry watched with a heavy heart and emotions warring inside him as Draco wavered on his unstable, mismatched legs, claws scraping against metal as he finally fell sideways and slumped to the floor, his skull knocked against the studded bars. Once the beast was unconscious, it was easier to shackle the long, hairy legs and drag the drowsing creature out of the cage and onto a thick metal table on the other side of the room. It had been reinforced recently, no doubt for this very purpose. Harry and Neville lit at least a hundred candles and positioned them in a large, intricate pattern around the table.

Five of them needed to haul the wolf onto the table.

It landed heavily, its tongue rolling out of his gaping mouth. The body was exuding warmth, the chest slowly rising up and down.

Each of its long limbs were shackled down and tightened over the furthest corners of the table. Snape produced a large worn leather muzzle with a metal bit attached to keep the beasts mouth open. It looked horribly uncomfortable as the straps bound the skin and fur tightly, but it needed to be done. Harry drew in deep measured breaths, trying to calm his frantic nerves. ' _It'll be over soon,_ ' he assured himself. ' _Just get through the next few hours_.' At the side of the metal block surving as their table there was a crank. With Blaise's help, Harry managed to lower the surface deeper into the steel borders. Draco's body sank along with the tabletop, his claws scraping against the sides as they rose around him.

"Remember what we are here to do," Snape intoned, his voice ringing out through the room. "Potter, take charge."

Head snapping up, Harry looked around the other expectant faces. Drawing in deep breaths, he addressed the others. "We need to douse him in the concocted mixture that's laced with silver, valerian roots and the forumula I've been working on. Ordindarily, we'd need full exposure to direct moonlight but if he remains unconscious we should be able to carry the body to the back courtyard where they make the deliveries."

"What if he wakes up?" Neville asked.

"We'll have to use more chloroform," Snape stated.

"Won't that contaminate the formula?" Blaise asked.

"Perhaps," the professor agreed. "However, depending on how things transpire we may need to take that risk."

"What about after?" Clifford, a usually quiet young man, asked. "If it were so easy just to pour medicine over them surely someone else would have done it?"

"That's why we have these." Snape unsheathed several long, engraved silver spikes. Harry's eyed widened in fear. The spikes glimmered in the candlelight, the Latin words engraved into the silver made his shudder with revulsion.

"Sir, we don't need those," Harry said.

"They're just a precaution, Potter," Snape stated coldly. "In case your way doesn't work, we'll do the rest my way."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but what else could he say? Snape always had the final ruling. Perhaps the spikes wouldn't be needed and Snape was right; they could just be a precaution. Still, his gut twisted. Pressing his parched lips together he turned his gaze to Blaise. "I need you to turn the tap one; it should produce a solution mixed with hot, soapy water."

Blaise did as instructed. The tap ground loudly through the silence. Pipes glugged and gurgled before chugging out gallons of the stuff. It sluiced over the furry body beneath them, rushing up over its limbs and pooling around the creature until it was soaked through and at least four inches deep. It wasn't enough to drown the beast, but it whetted most of his body.

The fur seemed to writhe with bubbles under the skin.

It was unsettling to watch.

"Now I'm g-going to pour three vials over his body," Harry spoke the words but his mind was several miles away in the townhouse, where everything had been going so well. "T-This is so is soaks into any open wounds and is absorbed by the skin."

"What about the rest of it?" Blaise asked.

"They need to be ingested."

Everyone's mouths set into a grim line. No one wanted to be the one to tip a vial into a sleeping wolf's mouth. Harry uncorked each of the first three vials and dribbled them over the beast's body. He pocketed the empty vials, his breath caught in his lungs. The creature let out a deep guttural growl but didn't wake up, merely shifting. The water sloshed around and over him. The flesh seemed to ripple and bubble a lot more and the other young men hummed in fascination as they looked on.

"Sir, would you care to administer the first vial?" Harry asked, holding a vial out over the table.

Snape narrowed his eyes a fraction but took the vial. He popped the cork and held it down into the tub, hovering just over the glistening fangs and tipped. The smoking liquid trickled down into the creature's mouth. Once the whisp of smoke disappeared they all waited with baited breath. A low groan started to drag itself out of the wolf's throat. The flesh-coloured skin bubbled and grew greasier as it rolled onto its back, the tweaked jaw turning up to the ceiling. Something gurgled at the back of its throat, growing louder and louder.

"Harry …?" Neville frowned, backing up a step or two from the thick-set tub.

"Is it waking up?" Blaise frowned panic ebbing into his voice.

"I … I don't know," Harry said.

"Hand me another vial, Potter," Snape ordered his hand extended. Harry obliged, passing another vial over the tub, as the water started to bubble and froth. The candlelight flickered. Pulling the cork out, Snape poured the liquid into the mouth. It smoked and seemed to hiss at the corners of the creature's jaw as it trickled through the fine layer of fur still clinging to its skull. "Another!" Severus snapped.

By the time the third vial was emptied, the wolf's eyes were rolling in their sockets. Its mouth was smoking and its limbs were twitching, tugging faintly at the shackles.

"Sir, are you sure those chains are strong enough?" Clifford asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

"I had the forged specifically for this purpose. Yes, they're strong enough."

Harry watched as the creature writhed and pawed at the water around its body; the chains clinked, its skin squirmed as though a thousand worms crawled under the skin, and its matted hair started to slither away in greasy little clumps. They floated in the water like drowned hedgehogs. Suddenly the beast's eyes snapped open revealing milky grey orbs. Its jaw worked itself into a twisted mask and a long howl burst out, erupting through the silence that had befallen them.

Whilst everyone backed away, Snape and Harry stared down in horror as muscles and broken bones snapped back into place and untwisted themselves, a grotesque pantomime taking place under the marred flesh. "Get back Potter!" Snape commanded, an arm knocking Harry in the chest and snapping him out of his trance. He watched as the black-robed man raised one of the silver stakes high over the tub. In a low, deep voice Snape began to chant in Latin.

The sound rung in Harry's ears, drowning out almost every other sound.

Flashing in the candlelight the stake was plunged down into the tub. It struck through bone and metal. Another, agonised howl ripped out of the wolf's throat.

The chanting continued.

"Professor, No!" Harry cried out, still dizzy from being thrown back against the wall. Had he hit his head? He couldn't be sure, the aroma of the potion was making him disorientated. None of the other men came to his aid nor intervened with Snape. For all Harry knew, they'd fled the basement. Another stake banged down into the creature, and then another and another. "Professor … please?" Harry wasn't even sure if sound came out of his mouth. All he could hear was the striking of those metal stakes, the sound matching rhythm with his heart. He wasn't even sure what he was begging for at that point.

On shaking legs, Harry pushed himself up to his feet, his vision blurred and wavering as he advanced towards the professor, his arms stretched out before him. He needed to stop this madness before the man used all seven stakes. The beast was howling pitifully at this point, crying out for freedom and respite, tugging uselessly at the chains and shackles, water spilling out over the sides of the tub and onto the stone floor.

Harry slipped in a puddle and caught Snape's sleeve as he rose the next stake.

The sound of metal hitting stone was like a bolt of lightning.

" _Potter, what are you doing?"_ Snape's distance voice sneered at him.

Harry didn't –couldn't –answer. He clambered into the tub, terrified or both the beast and what would happen if he let this assault continue. He took the ring of keys of the side and fumbled with them. The creature's chest heaved underneath him, the blood oozing into the milky bathwater and turning it pink. Something tugged at the back of his collar but he dragged himself away. His collar ripped against his throat. ' _Two more, two more, two more!_ ' was all he could think.

Finally the last shackle unlocked, sinking to the bottom of the tub.

A howl tore through the air.

Metal hit stone and water rushed over everything.

Harry clamped his mouth shut as it washed over him in foul, frothy waves. Shadows danced through his eyelashes but he was exhausted. His arm throbbed and bled into the bathwater. The cold was seeping into his bones and his mind was numbing everything, including the fiery pain at the back of his head.

Sounds echoed on the periphery of his consciousness.

" _Potter, you've damned us all,"_  were the last words he heard before he blacked out.


	21. 3rd November 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_3rd November 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

 

Harry was out cold for three days.

That was the doctors told him on the afternoon that he woke up. His head was a cacophony of pain, weird humming sounds and a feeling like his scalp was on fire and being feasted upon by bugs. His hands were bandaged up too, which made scratching at himself even more difficult. One of the doctors had even joked that very rarely did they see the same patient return to them so quickly.

By early evening Harry was able to sit up by himself in time for his dinner to be brought to him. It was then that it was announced that he had a visitor. Vague memories burst through his brain and he nearly threw-up at the idea of Severus coming to see him.

To his surprise and relief, Sirius came in.

He looked exhausted with dark bags under his eyes but he appeared in a much finer state than Harry had last seen him; his dark hair hung in combed curls around his shoulders, his dark glasses gleamed as he took them off along with his top hat and place them in his lap as he seated himself at Harry's bedside.

"You've certainly proven your stupidity and bravery in equal measure," he commented blithely, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Harry relaxed a little more, despite the words. "I –I'm sorry?"

"Your little stunt the other night. During the ritual."

More memories ghosted through Harry's head, barely skimming the surface of his conscious mind. He pressed his lips together, the intruding thoughts making his skull ache. Sirius took note of his pained expression and poured him a glass of water. Harry drank from it gratefully, his bound hands lying uselessly on his lap. "What happened to –the wolf?" Harry hedged.

"I have been keeping tabs on the creature, don't worry," Sirius stated, playing the pewter jug back on the nightstand. "For now, he is safe."

"Is he with you and Re –er –the other one?"

"Perhaps," Sirius nodded, his eyes flickering to the ward door. Harry followed his gaze and followed. The walls had ears wherever he seemed to be. The last thing he needed to do was expose names when any passing nurse could repeat the information.

Harry rubbed at his forehead and grimaced at the gauze there. Turning to the man sat beside him, he asked, "Did they tell you what happened to me?"

"Not at first," Sirius stated. "However, as soon as I said I was your Uncle and only living relative in London, they soon changed their tune."

"So what did happen?"

"It's hard to say, really," Sirius confessed with a sigh. "They found you almost drowning in that tub, covered in cuts and bruises and the foul-smelling formula you concocted. Old Snape was half-conscious in the corner, mumbling something unintelligible. You were both brought here and tended to in separate wards."

Harry swallowed thickly. "How –How is he?"

"He's alive."

"Was he … bitten?"

"Not as far as I was able to tell."

"You examined him?" Harry asked aghast, his jaw dropping open.

"As soon as everyone else left, yes." Sirius smirked deviously. "As I said, I don't believe he has been bitten. Scraped a little but no, he shan't be turning into a were-beast anytime soon."

That was a small relief at least. Harry drew in a deep breath and relaxed back against the cushions. He stared down at the dinner tray in front of him and then dumbly down at his hands. "Um … would it be too strange if I … um … asked you …" He held up his hands by way of explanation.

Sirius smiled warmly. "Of course not, kid." He dragged his chair closer and, in a surprisingly fatherly manner, picked up the bowl of soup and the spoon and started to feed Harry. "Try not to spill any," he advised.

Harry flushed a little and tried to oblige. Some soup dribbled down his chin, but Sirius swiped it back up with the edge of the spoon. Harry couldn't remember anyone doing that with him since he'd been a child. It left him feeling low and longing to return home, to see both his parents. Such familiarity would feel blissful at that moment considering the trauma he'd experienced. Sirius was easily adapting into the role of a father-figure in that moment but Harry hadn't the heart to ask if the man had had any family prior to living in London. He didn't think his heart could handle anymore sadness at that point.

He ate the rest of his meal in silence.

 

 

 

Eyeing the room around him a little while later, Harry found that something didn't quite add up. "Sirius –how is that I'm in another private ward? Draco paid for my last one so I don't understand how I'm in this one now."

Sirius didn't speak for a little while, his chin resting on his folded hands. He seemed to stare into space for a little while. The silence was somehow more irritating to Harry's sensitive nerves that talking outloud. Eventually, he spoke, his words calming and measured. "Draco didn't initially pay for the private ward. Once he found out about it, he switched the payments to coming from him instead. This hospital doesn't care about where it gets its money from as long as they get it."

"So … who did pay for my board last time?"

"Me."

Harry's eyes went wide. "You? Why –why would you?"

Sirius looked into Harry's eyes. "Harry, haven't you ever wondered why you were granted the scholarship for your medical degree?"

Harry shrugged helplessly, his bright eyes gleaming with fear. "I –I assumed I was some sort of charity case. That I needed to prove my worth against the others who had all sorts of resources."

"In a way, that's the measure of what everyone has to do," Sirius stated.

"So –I wasn't a charity case?" Harry frowned.

"Probably not in the way that you're thinking, no."

"Then … why?"

"Harry, I placed a large donation to this hospital on the understanding that they would not throw out your application simply because you were from outside of the city. It tends to happen, believe me. However, as soon as I heard the committee were intrigued by your grades and intelligence it made me feel terrible that they would just cast you aside, letting another, less intelligent person to take your stead."

Harry listened mutely, his frown making his skull ache and buzz. Sirius had taken it upon himself to pave Harry's way to success –or at the very least to get him into the most prestigious medical school in the city. Why would he do such a thing though? Was there something for him to gain if Harry was successful? Licking his lips, he tried not to flex his bound fingers within their confines; it only cause more pain to shoot up and down his arms. "W-Why did you make the donation?" he finally asked.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're a stranger to me!" Harry blurted out. "You cannot deny that! I have no prior connection to you until last week and now you seem to be dogging me around London!"

Sirius' mouth twitched into a smile. Despite the truth in Harry's words there was also a lot of information the young man didn't know. It hadn't been purely coincidence that he'd shown up at opportune moments. "Harry, did it ever occur to you that someone may have been watching you?"

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "Y-yes," he said. "I had gotten used to the idea that it was Draco."

"For the most part, it was."

Harry narrowed his eyes. The man didn't shrink away from him. He simply sat upright in the stiff wooden chair, his hands neatly folded in his lap and his expression open and neutral. "You?" Harry breathed. "Why would  _you_  be following me?"

"I made an investment in regards to you, Harry. You need to be alive and make well on the chances given to you."

"Bought for me, you mean," Harry sneered.

"Does it really matter how you got the opportunity to study at the hospital? Or should it only matter that you are here, with these other men, excelling in your studies from what I overhear and are on the road towards a promising career after your exams, should you pass?"

Harry couldn't describe what he was feeling. It was agitation and anger, but also a strange dabble of endearment that someone had cared enough about his future to take such a bold risk on his education. Not that he hadn't made every go of it he could, it was just incredulous to think that someone outside of his own flesh and blood would  _care_.

His skull throbbed.

There was still one thing that didn't make sense to him.

"I'm sorry, sir, but there has to be another reason for your decision to invest your time and resources in me," he spoke with his head bowed to his chest, greasy hair creating iron bars between his bed and the curly-haired man at his bedside.

"Oh, there is."

A pause. "May I know what it is?" Harry asked, feeling irritating bite into his tone.

Sirius closed his eyes. "Harry, I don't wish to distress you whilst you're still recovering."

"I'm perfectly fine!" he snapped.

"No you're not," Sirius replied, calmly. "You've been through a terrible ordeal. You need time to recover properly. This information can wait for a few more days."

"I don't need another adult keeping secrets from me, Sirius," Harry stated tightly, wishing he could scrunch his useless hands into fists. "I'm sick of being kept in the dark! These last few months have been harrowing and I need to know as much as I can if I'm going to get through this  _alive_."

The kid had a point, there was no arguing that.

Sirius let out a weary sigh and stood up from the chair. For a brief, flickering moment he had been tempted to tell Harry everything he wanted to know. However, he had not come to the hospital that night to enrage the teenager, but rather to make sure that he was still alive and still a fully functioning human. The last thing he needed was for the kid to be scratched anymore than he already had been.

Or bitten.

Patting Harry lightly on the leg, Sirius placed his tophat upon his curled hair and straightened the lapels of his jacket. "I'll be back soon, Harry. Take advantage of the hospitals amenities while you can."

"Sirius!" Harry frowned. "You can't just leave!"

"I'm afraid I must, Harry. You are working yourself up and may even burst some stitches. You need some solitude to decompress your mind, rest and recuperate. I sincerely hope it is a swift recovery."

"But -?"

"Rest, Harry," Sirius smiled in the doorway. "Just try and rest." He didn't give the young man a chance to reply. He simply walked out of the private ward and let the sound of his shoes clicking on the marble floor follow in his wake. He couldn't deny that Harry needed answers, but now was not the time. If he was going to divulge all to the boy, he needed all the information at hand to give an accurate depiction of what happened. There'd be time for all of that, but for now he needed to do what was best for the boy.

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

Sirius had invested in his future.

Sirius had spent a lot of his money in order for Harry to get a good education.

Why would a perfect stranger to something like that?

The only time something of that nature would happen to other people, it would be a well-known wealthy benefactor, or a rich relative that had been abroad in America. Sirius didn't seem to fit either profile in Harry's life, so what were his true motives for financing Harry's education? Was it so he could force Harry to create an elixir in order to save his friends live? Was Remus' life more important than the way Harry saw himself? More importantly, the way the rest of the world saw him? If he grew infamous for that sole discovery –he'd be no more than a joke.

A court jester.

Someone to laugh and jeer at as he walked down the street.

The subject of many conversations whispered behind gloved hands and handkerchiefs.

The feeling of despair pooled inside him like cold, black tar. Swallowing thickly, he brushed the hair out of his eyes and turned his blurred gaze towards the window. Swallowing thickly, he brushed the hair out of his eyes and turned his blurred gaze towards the window. Through the cobweb thin curtains, he could see the black sky stretching far and wide over the orange and black landscape of London Town. It had taken him a while to get used to the city skyline. He'd missed the rolling hills of home, the quiet and the crickets. It had all been so peaceful. However peace and silence were rare in the bustling city; it was almost an alien concept unless one happened to be awake at such a late hour.

Now, however, the world was still.

Nothing stirred or made a sound; the only thing Harry could hear was the beating of his own, steady heartbeat. If he didn't know any better, he'd have guessed that he was the only person in that hospital.

His mind came back to Sirius. He still didn't understand what that man was talking about and why it related to him. Scoffing at himself, he turned bodily onto his side and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. His bed-bound body was growing too restless. He pulled the bedsheets higher over his shoulders and tucked them under his chin. It was definitely coming up to Winter.

' _I wonder where Draco will be sleeping tonight_ ,' his mind hummed. ' _Will he be warm and dry? Will he have food and water? Will he be human or …?_ '

He clamped his eyes shut, his breathing hot and heavy against the scratchy pillowcase. There was no need for such thoughts. Just then, he had a moment of quiet clarity. He didn't need to sit there in bed and question all these ideas and problems. He was well enough –wasn't he? Pushing himself upright, he used his teeth to scrape and pick at the taut bandages, but finally managed to hook underneath one. With a lot of tugging and snarling, Harry was able to rip through one of the bandages and unwind it. Adrenaline worked his jaw as is gnawed away at the other hand.

Numb and shaking, he stared down at his hands.

They were both dark purple and his nails were marred, chipped and red. Yellow bruises marked his skin up just past his wrists.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

' _Don't cry_  …' his brain crooned in his mama's. ' _Panic later, but you don't have time to waste._ '

Sniffing loudly, he tenderly wiped his nose and eyes on the sheets before gingerly swinging his legs over the edge of the floor was cold underfoot as he pressed some weight onto the quaking limbs. It felt wrong –as though it weren't his body to control. It felt slow and limp as he shuffled a few feet to the window and back. Air caught in his lungs.

"I can do this!" he hissed to himself.

It took him a good half an hour or so to fully dress himself. Inwardly cursing at himself, he checked the small cupboard and under the bed to make sure that he hadn't left anything behind. There was nothing. With a tight chest, Harry hobbled awkwardly across the room. Peering around the door-frame, he looked up and down the dimly lit corridor. He appeared to be alone.

 

 

Getting to the back stairwell had him perspiring, lungs aching and his spine bending with pressure.

The cold, brick stairwells were refreshingly cold. However, by the time Harry got down to the ground floor, he was drenched in a sticky sheen of cold sweat. Panting heavily, he dragged his body through the door. The main reception cast a sickly green glow at the furthest end of the wide hallway. Harry wiped at his eyes and slowly, with his back pressed against the brick wall, made his way down towards the light.

Trembling, he peered around the corner.

The main desk was empty.

Surely they wouldn't leave the entire hospital unguarded all night? Perhaps there was an emergency that required all staff? Maybe the receptionist was out getting the police for statements. Perfect. The door to the outside world was within his sight. Drawing in sharp, shallow breaths, Harry forced himself away from the wall and hobbled clumsily towards the double doors.

A tremor ran down his spine as he loped across the sparse, open area.

The rough wood bit through his shirt as he pushed all his weight against it. Grinding his back teeth together, he did his best to force the doors open. They groaned weakly in protest but eventually gave. A sharp gust of wind ripped through the air. His entire body rippled with the pressure but he continued to push through. He was sure he felt something 'pop' somewhere on his body and a trickle of warmth started to bloom on his left side. His mind was spinning as he almost fell down the stone steps leading up to the hospital.

The stars and the moon welcomed him.

Emotions crashed over him like waves in a storm.

A desperate smile clawed at his mouth, tears burned in his eyes but there was no time to dwell on it. He had a lot of questions that needed to be answers and he was done being kept in the dark. Carefully using the iron railings for support, Harry made his way down into the city of London, leaving a thin trail of bloody droplets in his wake.


	22. 5th November 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_5th November 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

 

 

Draco's townhouse was the perfect place to take refuge and recuperate.

Harry had managed to ten to his wounds with Joan's help, thankfully she hadn't asked any questions. She'd simply run out and gathered all the necessary gauze and ointments that he requested. In the daylight he looked as though he were the lone survivor of a train crash. His mind was still trying to comprehend how he came to be in such a state. His hands were still a little swollen and mostly useless, which wasn't encouraging him to do much by way of practicality. He wanted to go outside and search for Draco, but how was he supposed to do that if his hands would barely turn a doorknob?

Pressing his lips together he used one of Draco's old canes to help him hobble downstairs. If nothing else he could spend some time reading and drinking some tea.

Joan had lunch with him again. Harry insisted, afterwards, that he was fine and could handle things for himself. She could take the afternoon off. She was troubled about leaving him in the mess he was in, however Harry didn't plan on being at the townhouse for longer than a few more hours. He had something more pressing on his mind.

By late afternoon, the doorbell rang throughout the desolate house. Harry could almost sense who it was before he even opened the door. The daylight fell bleak and grey against the brocade of Sirius' waistcoat as he swept into the hallway without invitation.

"You really didn't expect me to find you here?" he asked tersely, his cloak billowing as he rounded on the young man.

"Of course I did," Harry replied, closing the door and leaning heavily on the cane. "In fact I expected you a lot earlier."

Sirius sighed and removed his hat. "Why did you leave the hospital?"

Harry didn't answer right away. Of course Sirius had been to the hospital. How else would he ave known that Harry was missing? Where else could Harry possibly go in London whilst he was slowly bleeding-out? Inclining his head, he led the older man down the hallway and into the oak-panelled library where he'd been reading. Settling down into his armchair, he waited for Sirius to sit down on the other side of the coffee table before speaking. "I needed more answers and you weren't around to give them."

"So you thought you'd run amock and get them yourself?"

"Well, you're here aren't you?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Harry, you're not well. You need proper medical attention."

"You're a doctor, aren't you?"

"I didn't get my full license."

Harry shrugged. "You're better than I am, especially in my current condition." For emphasis, he held up his battered hands. Sirius pursed his lips. He wasn't impressed by the severe bruising but chose to keep his thoughts to himself for the time being. They sat in silence for a while. Questions that had been plaguing Harry all nice bubbled to the surface of his mind, each more important than the previous one. Swallowing against the lump in his bruised throat Harry broke the silence. "Have you managed to find Draco?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

The older man bowed his head. "Luckily, he was easy to track."

Harry's heart lurched into his throat. "Where did you find him?"

"I found him sauntering down along Spitalfields. How he managed to get all the way there without being seen I cannot fathom."

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. Spitalfields wasn't exactly nearby. Frowning, he asked, "Did he … um … was there any …?"

Sirius shook his head. "I did a preliminary search but as far as I could see, no, he hadn't hurt anyone or been seen. If he had, it was most likely by a drunk street-urchin."

"Where is he now?"

"He's in a safe place," the older man assured, "As is Remus."

"I was just about to ask. How are they coping? Are they still half-forms?"

A sombre expression passed over Sirius' face. "Yes, I'm afraid so. More human than werewolf at this point, but there is no denying that they are still caught in between."

"Is there anything we can do to help them?"

"I've noticed that the moonlight helps," the older man stated. Lacing his fingers together he drew in a deep breath and continued. "I leave them locked up with direct moonlight over them for most of the night. This seems to help heal their broken skin, bones what have you. It also seems to slowly cleanse them of their beastly attributes."

Harry felt his mouth droop open slightly. "How slow are we talking?"

"Seven hours of moonlight seems enough to heal a single limb. Although it isn't directed at one place, Harry. It's all over their bodies, which means the healing is stretched even thinner. Last night one of Draco's hind legs was able to snap itself into an almost human-like form. It's stopped about a foot longer than his other leg."

"And Remus?"

"He's looking less like a werewolf and more like a fanged statuette at this point. Still has his tail, though."

For some reason the mental imagery was too much for Harry. He shook it away. "Is Remus able to understand you at this point?"

Sirius smiled thinly. "He can always understand me, Harry. In answer to your next question, no, he cannot talk just yet. Not properly at least. He tries to, God Bless his soul, but his teeth cut his mouth up too much. It's … rather distressing."

That meant Draco wouldn't be able to, either.

The notion weighed heavily in Harry's chest. "Take me to him," he finally managed to breathe, his mind made up. He didn't care if he had nightmares for months to come, he needed to see Draco –whatever form he was in –and know that he was okay. That he wasn't alone in this Hell anymore.

"Are you sure Harry?" Sirius frowned. "I still have reservations about it, and I've been aiding Remus in these matters for longer than you've been alive."  
Harry nodded with grim determination. "I need to be there with him, Sirius. He had no one else. Not really."

There was the obvious argument of Snape hanging between them, however he was still indisposed at the hospital. Harry needed to remember to go and speak with his Professor at some point. That wasn't a priority, however, going to see and help care for Draco was.

"If you're sure," the older man finally sighed. He stood up from the armchair, brushed lint of his cloak and turned for the door. "Be ready to leave in ten minutes and not a moment longer!" he called out before disappearing down the shadowed hallway.

Harry took a few moments for himself before building up the strength to climb the stairs up to his bedchamber. There he packed his satchel with a fresh shirt, undergarments and his medicines and gauze before hobbling like an oaf down towards the front door.

 _'I'm coming, Draco_ ,' he thought, grinding his teeth as pain shot through any body part that so much as brushed another object. ' _Don't worry! I'm coming!_ '

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

The carriage pulled up outside an old, grim house that seemed to shrink away from the main road. The sky had darkened with the promise of rain later that evening. Harry shivered and drew his cloak tighter around his stiff shoulders. Stepping out onto the pavement, Harry looked up at the tall, narrow house and instinctively wished to turn around into the carriage and hurry back home.

"This is where you live?" he asked, his stomach tying itself into knots.

"It was my mother's house before she died," Sirius stated coolly. "I only use it now and again. It's useful for the basement; it's practically sound-proof."

Harry frowned at the words but Sirius had already moved past him and into the front garden. Instead of walking up the stone steps to the front door, the older man took a sharp right and began making his way around the side of the house down a narrow, brick path. There were tangles of dead nettles and ivy browning alongside the houses edges, but Sirius' thick boots trod over them easily enough. Harry felt the odd prickly leaf nick at his skin but hurried on, not wanting to let the other man out of his sight for a second. As he rounded the last corner, it was just in time to see Sirus pocket a heavy padlock and tug a pair of almost ground-level slanted doors. They grunted open, the hinges in desperate need of oil. From somewhere below, Harry could hear the scraping of claws and padding of feet against straw.

"You keep them down there?" he asked as Sirius began to descend ahead of him.

"Where else was I supposed to keep them?" the taller man asked, arching an eyebrow. "I could hardly take them on the train up to the moors, could I?"

Harry had to concede that the man had a point.

With anxiety spiralling inside his brain, he followed Sirius down into the basement.

 

 

 

The basement itself was recently modified by the looks of the fresh, new wooden beams and the clean, scrubbed brick walls. There was a small stove off to one side giving off warmth and daylight coming in through the long, ground-level window above their heads. The grey light slanted down into the room. It gave off just enough light for Harry to make out the long, gnarly half-forms that were Remus and Draco dozing in a strange nest. It looked to be made of straw, ripped sheets and there were two thick coverlets pushed to the side with fraying edges. Sirius hung his cloak, hat and cane on some wooden pegs and then went over to the small stove. "Tea?" he asked, keeping his voice at a calming level.

"Please."

The two creatures in the corner watched with their discoloured eyes, pointed ears pricked while the rest of their bodies remained motionless. It was disturbing seeing the half-formed Draco so poised and still in the beastly form. Harry took the seat opposite Sirius, the warmth from the stove driving away the chill that clung to his skin and clothing. They drank an entire cup of tea in silence, only broken by Sirius refilling their cups and letting out a soft sigh. Harry eyed the two beasts who had laid back down in the nest, their breathing shallow and erratic.

"How long do you think they can live in that condition?" Harry asked, keeping his voice low.

"I'm not too sure," Sirius confessed. "It's only ever happened a few times before and never for this long."

Harry felt his heart sank. Perhaps his potion had mixed with whatever Snape had previously tried? Maybe Remus changing back to his human form had been a temporary fluke afterall? Taking another sip, the hot tea rushing through his insides, he shivered and looked over at the creatures again. "Are they not healing at all?"

"As I said, Harry, it's an arduous process and so slow it probably causes them more pain than good."

"I brought another couple of vials –to see if another recipe would work for them."

Sirius frowned and then shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose there's no real harm in trying, not whilst they're in this state. Perhaps one of them could even speed up the process."

"What'll happen once they become human again?"

"At least a week or so confined to bed-rest to recuperate. Remus has been having a lot of problems in recent years, trying to maintain a job. For at least a week and a half each month he had to take a leave of absence which gets him branded as unreliable. That's why he stays with me."

"So that he can save some money?"

A pause. "For the most part."

They lapsed into silence again.

Harry cradled the warm cup of tea against his bruised abdomen and drew in deep, calming breaths. It was the first time he had started to feel comfortable since the previous evening when he'd snuck out of the hospital. Stroking the fine china under his thumb, he took another sip and shivered as warmth bloomed in the pit of his stomach. The sky grew darker outside the window. When the room became almost too dim to see, Sirius went around lighting the lamps that hung across the ceiling at different intervals.

It cast a pleasant glow throughout the large room.

"Sirius?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Would you mind if I stayed here tonight and monitor how you –how you interact with them?" he gestured at the half-formed beasts, only noticing in that moment how the both creatures had shackles around their wrists and legs.

The older man smiled as he removed his waistcoat and tied his hair back out of his eyes and rolled his sleeves up. "It would certainly make my evening much easier."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, a fair bit actually. Try to get yourself rested in the next hour."

Harry nodded, reclining back in the chair and stretching his aching legs out in front of him. The tea did a lot to help him calm down –he mentally wondered if there was aconite in the tea, but decided that he didn't care. It soothed his mind and kept him from focusing on the wounds that itched and scratched under the gauze.

 

 

 

He must have dozed off a little because the next thing he remembered was being shaken awake by Sirius. " _Harry? Harry? Come on, kid, wake up. I need you to help me with this_."

Yawning, Harry stretched and gingerly stood up from his chair, swaying a little on his feet. "Okay –what do you need me to do?" he asked, adjusting his glasses on his nose. He took note of the long chains that clunked as Sirius dragged them across the floor. Taking a hesitant step forward, he braced himself against the wall and watched as the two creatures clumsily climbed onto their haunches. They let out low, growling sounds but didn't aim to bite or lash out as Sirius approached.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed, feeling hot panic surge through him.

Sirius held out an arm and waved for him to be quiet. Harry held his tongue but couldn't stop the anxiety rushing through him. He was worried if one of the beasts lunged for the man. In his hands he had a long rope, looped at one end.

' _Like a noose_ ,' Harry thought.

With one swift movement, Sirius had the rope around Remus' neck and tugged. With a yelp, the creature's head lurched back as Sirius tied the other end around his waist. "I know it hurts," he crooned, "I'm sorry but it'll be over soon."

Harry watched with fear in his stomach as Sirius advance and splayed his fingers through the last tuft of fur on the animal's body. He stroked it softly. The smaller beast let out a warning growl but Sirius turned toward it and flicked some liquid at it. Still growling, the creature backed up a couple of steps. Harry watched, scared and intrigued as Sirius returned his attention to Remus and continued stroking his free hand up and down the beast's body. In his other hand he held a muzzle with a thick, gleaming silver mouth-bit. As the Remus-beast whimpered and struggled weakly against the restraints, Sirius managed to wrestle the muzzle on over his head. Once the buckles were secured, the curly-haired man untied the rope from around his waist and backed away from Remus.

Glaring, the creature let out a low rumbling whimper but didn't try and lunge.

Harry felt his heart thrumming in his throat.

Turning to the younger boy, Sirius held out the rope and a smaller muzzle. "Okay Harry. It's your turn."

The blood drained from his face. "What? No! I –I can't do it!"

"Yes you can."

"No! No, I can't!"

"Yes you can Harry. It doesn't hurt them as much as you think it does."

Harry stared down at the offending muzzle. How could he do such a thing to Draco? His gut twisted inside him. He hesitated before reaching out towards the rope and muzzle and swallowing thickly. "What if –what if he attacks me?"

"That's why I'm here with you."

Harry gave him a dubious look but didn't argue. Drawing in a deep breath, he took a step towards Draco. The animal cocked its head to the side, sniffing at the air and pulled its lips back in a grotesque snarl.

" _Talk to him, Harry. Calm him. He can tell that you're scared_ ," Sirius murmured. Harry nodded and advanced. The rope and leather bridle of the muzzle felt rough in his palms. "Okay, I want you to toss the rope around his neck on the count of three. One … Two … Three!"

Harry tossed the noose and tugged Draco's head back, wincing as the creature yelped and pawed at the air. The guilt that ripped through his chest was immense. He almost let go of the rope completely, but Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder.

"That's good Harry. Now tie the rope around your waist and put the muzzle on over his head."

Harry held his breath as he hurried forward and quickly fastened the bridle of the creatures head, fumbling awkwardly to secure the straps and make them tighter. Draco tossed his head from side-to-side, the metal bit scraping between his teeth. He could smell his own sweat and fear rolling off of him in waves. He was sure he saw Draco's nostrils flare. Getting as far away as he could, he unfastened the rope and let the creature drop back down onto the floor with a whimper.

It took several moments before his heart calmed down. His eyes were damp and hot.

A hand landed on his shoulder making him jump. Sirius gave him a comforting squeeze, "Come. Let's have some tea."

Harry nodded mutely.

They drank in silence for a little while, the adrenaline ebbing away. Harry down the first cup in one gulp, hiccoughed, and then tried to calm himself down as he watched the two animals paw awkwardly at their muzzles. "Does it get any easier?" he found himself asking as Sirius refilled his cup.

"Which part?"

"Literally chaining up and gagging someone you lo –care about?"

Sirius ran a hand down his face. "I want to say 'yes it does' but there's no way you can get around it. It doesn't get easier, especially not when they're in this half-form state. Especially if they change in the middle of the night. Then you have to see your human companion in such a disparaging state with a bridle on their head."

Harry watched as the two creatures shuffled about on their oddly shaped legs. Moonlight shone down through the clouds and fell over their mangled forms. Turning to Sirius, Harry pulled out two vials that he'd brought with him. "Do you want to give them these vials? It's one of my other recipes. I don't know what it will do to them."

Sirius held out his hand and took the glass vials. Popping both corks, he stood up and advanced towards the two animals. Their heads perked up, ears pricked and a tension appeared in their posture as Sirius grasped out for Remus' bridle and pushed the vial into the side of his mouth. He tipped the vial until it was empty, his muscles straining against the jostling creature, before letting him go and repeating the same struggle with Draco. Wiping sweat from his brow, Sirius settled back down into the chair beside Harry and took a long sip from his teacup. "Well, if this is what it's like having to take care of children I'm glad I never bothered with them."

Harry frowned. "You never wanted any?"

"I was tempted in my younger days," Sirius admitted. "I just never found someone I wanted to tolerate for that long."

"You tolerate Remus."

"Remus is … something else entirely."

Harry quirked an eyebrow but didn't remark on that last comment. "Didn't you have any friends who had kids?"

Sirius set his teacup aside. "Yes. I had two friends who got married and had a son. They moved out of the city because they wanted a better family-life for their child."

"Did you go and visit?"

Sirius smiled. "I used to try and get up there every month. However, soon I got back in touch with Remus. My visits became irregular and then I just couldn't face letting my friends down all the time. I went up when I could but it has been a number of years."

"Were you very close?"

"We grew up together. I was even made godfather to the little boy. I feel bad I couldn't do more."

"I'm sure you did what you could."

"Well I'm trying to make up for it now."

"Oh? In what ways?" Harry asked as he poured them both the last of the tea.

"I simply gave the young boy an offer he couldn't pass up."

"Like you did with me?" Harry said offhandedly, before his hand stopped mid-way to his lips. His smile dropped off his mouth. "Like you did … with me …" he echoed.

"Harry …"

The teacup nearly shattered as Harry let it slip from his hand. His eyes were shining and wet as he turned to look up at the older man. "You … You're … You're my  _godfather_?"

Sirius pressed his lips together and gave a resolute nod.

Harry sat still, silently as he processed the information. The two beasts made low grumbling noises in the corner. Harry just felt numb all over. He had a godfather? Why hadn't he been told? Why would his parents keep him in the dark? Were they worried that he'd have left them in search for this man? This wild, unruly man who kept werewolves as companions. ' _Actually_ ,' he reasoned.  _'That's probably exactly why they didn't mention it. Papa must have known at least_.'

He let out a sigh and rubbed his temples.

"I understand if you're upset," Sirius started, his voice trailing off.

Harry ground his teeth together but closed his eyes and kept his mind relaxed. "You're here now, I suppose," he finally sighed. "At the times that I really need you, you showed up. In a way that's what a godfather  _should_  do."

Sirius hummed in response. "I won't presume that this is okay or that you're happy about this. I understand it'll take time."

"Yes. It will."

"However, I'm more than willing to help you with Draco's problem at the moment. If you wish to speak to me after we help him, then that is entirely your choice."

Harry let out a tired sigh and nodded. "I suppose that's fair."

Sirius looked up and felt his jaw slacken. Keeping his voice low, he tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Look at them. Do you think your potion did that?"

Harry followed his line of sight and sat up a little straighter. Both creatures' heads were lulling lower and lower, their eyelids heavy and their limbs slowly relaxing as the medicine took effect over them. Sirius and Harry watched in stunned silence until both Remus and Draco were asleep in their strange little nest of torn sheets and straw, Remus' elongated left arm sloping down over Draco's hunched shoulders. "Wow…" he breathed out, not daring to believe his eyes. "This is incredible!"

"See?" Sirius hummed. "You were worth the investment."

For some reason that Harry was unable to identify, he felt a ball of pride bloom within his chest. Revelling in the emotion for the moment, Harry relaxed back in his chair. Together, he and Sirius watched the moonbeams shift patterns through the windows. Only at dawn did Sirius insist that he retire up to the house for some proper rest.

Harry resisted at first but soon relented. As he drifted off to sleep he couldn't deny that he still felt proud of what he'd accomplished that evening. He fell asleep before any other thoughts plagued him into misery.


	23. 9th November 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Friday 9th November 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

 

The papers wasted no time in printing Mary-Jane Kelly's obituary.

Sirius had returned that morning with the local paper tucked under his arm and a weary expression on his face. It had been a gruelling couple of days since Harry had joined him at the house and had given his new formula to both creatures. Harry had helped him as much he could and, just two days ago, when they went down into the basement they were both relieved to find a very naked, dirty and bruised pair of men, cradled up in one of the torn throw blankets.

Baths had been run immediately and, once both men were escorted up into the main house and settled into the two large tubs by the stove in the kitchen, Harry and Sirius set about scrubbing them both and tending to their wounds. It was a long morning, but it had been worth the rewards once everyone was settled down, bandaged, drinking tea and eating soup at their leisure in the parlour.

To have such an article printed in front of them only served to rack the tension that clung around their necks.

Draco read the newspaper and shivered violently. He drew the blanket tighter around his shoulders and bowed his head. "Do you –Do you think I was responsible for that?" he asked hoarsely. His throat was still recovering from all the growling he'd done as a were-beast. "Do you think –I did that when I was … when I was …?" he trailed off, unable to finish that particular thought.

Remus reached out and tentatively squeezed the blonde man's forearm. "Accidents happen, Draco," he stated diplomatically. "Trust me, I've had my fair few newspaper clippings about my heinous behaviour."

Draco kept his eyes on the tabletop.

Harry looked between all three of the older man, feeling completely at a loss for what to say. Instead, he reached for the newspaper and spread it out in front of himself to read. It was a short summary of events; Mary-Jane's body had been found mutilated savagely –almost beyond recognition –and left to rot in her lodgings in Dorset Street, Spitalfields.

_Spitalfields.  
_

Where Sirius had found Draco.

"Sirius?" He turned his wide eyes up to the older, dark-haired man. "You said there were no casualties."

"As far as I was able to check, there didn't appear to be," Sirius said defensively. "Need I remind you, I also had a seven foot tall werewolf to try and get control of without being bitten or wounded?"

Harry bowed his head. He'd set Draco free from the hospital basement. In truth, this woman's death was on him. She'd only been twenty-five. She'd had her whole life ahead of her –not like the other victims that Harry had helped dissect. A tremor ran down his spine. He hadn't felt any of those emotions for the other women –then again they'd mostly been in their thirties and up. This was a young woman.

"Do you think they will just bury this one?" Harry asked quietly.

"It's hard to say," Sirius stated. "I went by and had a look myself. It was almost unrecognisable as a human corpse." He stirred some sugar into his tea and then took a long drink from the cup. "I think they're going to leave this one open for a few days, get a thorough autopsy and most likely a second opinion from Snape himself, then they'll bury her."

Harry pressed his lips together in thought. He felt guilt tugging at his heartstrings and churning his stomach uncomfortably. With all the worrying he'd been doing lately, he'd barely had time to think about writing his parents and telling them that he'd met his Godfather in London. If Sirius and his father were as close as the older man claimed, then Harry had to wager that it was Sirius' gallivanting with hellish animals that prevented his parents from letting him near. Sirius wouldn't tell him more on the subject, feeling that he'd already violated the Potter's trust already in exposing his relationship with them. He felt it was best that Harry should ask them for himself.

"Do you think someone should go and talk with Severus?" Harry finally asked.

Three heads turned to look at him with unreadable expressions.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Draco croaked out, a bitter edge to his voice.

"Doesn't he deserve to know what's happened to you? That you're human again?" Harry asked, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the blonde man's forearm.

"He was going to stab me through the  _heart_ ," Draco sneered through gritted teeth. "I couldn't care if he were to never speak to me again."

"He was only trying to help."

"Are you seriously defending him?" he spat. Harry flinched and averted his gaze. Draco appeared to remain animalistic in temperament after a full moon. Standing up quickly, Harry flinched away as the chair crashed to the floor. Draco gripped the edge of the table and was a moment from doing some drastic, before turning on heels and storming up the stairs to one of the many vacant bedrooms.

A door slammed shut.

A spattering of dust fell across the table.

Harry felt horrid. He was ruining everything. He'd let Draco loose and been the indirect cause of the young woman's death and now he'd gotten Draco into a temper tantrum. Things were not going well. ' _Bad things always come in threes!_ ' his mama used to say. Harry couldn't help but wonder what number he was actually on.

"I'll go and see if he's okay," Remus finally said, draining the last of his tea and making his way upstairs, trailing a hand discreetly along Sirius' shoulders as he passed.

The silence was horrible.

"Do you … think I should go and see Snape?" Harry asked meekly as he toyed with his plate.

"I think you should do whatever you feel is right," Sirius stated as he started to clear the table. The clattering of china being stacked filled the air, giving Harry a chance to gather his thoughts.

As Sirius went to clean everything up, Harry was left alone. He thought about it, he truly did, and in the end there was no denying the truth of it all; Snape needed to be told exactly what was going on with his nephew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The roads around Dorset Street were still crammed with people. For the most part it was due to the police still sweeping the small back-building where Mary Kelly had apparently lived. They were trying to usher the people away from the crime-scene albeit unsuccessfully. They attempted to herd the people through the narrow streets like cattle but it made little to no difference. Harry let himself fall in with the crowd and slowly migrated to the other end of the street before making his way towards St. Barts.

He ducked his head as he briskly walked through the reception. The nurse behind it was too busy trying to deal with a couple of men who were bleeding through bottle cuts to pay attention. On the first floor, Harry asked a nurse which room Severus Snape was staying in. A private ward on the third floor. Perfect. Harry followed the directions as quickly as he could, all too aware that the sterile lighting highlighted every bruise and cut on his skin. Tugging the collar of his cloak higher around his chin, he paused outside the door and listened. Considering the bustling noise in the hallway behind him, he struggled to determine whether the room was indeed devoid of medical staff.

Thankfully, there was only Snape.

Harry slipped into the room and closed the door quietly behind him. He needn't have worried as Severus was awake, propped up against four or more pillows with a dismal hospital breakfast on a tray on his lap.

Harry slipped into the room and closed the door quietly behind him. He needn't have worried as Severus was awake, propped up against four or more pillows with a dismal hospital breakfast on a tray on his lap. His disdainful look only intensified when he caught sight of Harry in his doorway.

"What in God's name are you doing here, Potter?" he sneered.

Wringing his hands a little as he took a step into the room Harry said, "I was hoping we could discuss last week. At the hospital."

"What of it?"

"I –I wanted to explain myself. For my actions."

"I don't want to listen to this," Snape seethed.

"I know I was just –"

"No, Potter, listen to the words coming out of my mouth. I do NOT want to hear this. I know exactly why you did what you did. Regardless of your 'noble' reasons," he spat out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You endangered lives. From what I hear, there's another corpse awaiting my technical eye. So please; leave me to clean up the mess you've managed to create and get out."

"Sir, I know what I did was wreckless," Harry hedged, trying to keep the distraught quaver out of his voice. "I know that young woman died. However considering the alternative I don't believe you have any –"

"I am your professor. I have every right! I even have the right to permanently dismiss you from this program and send you packing back to your hovel in the moors."  
Harry was struck by the words. Despite the bruises and lacerations covering the older man's pale skin, there was no denying that his bitterness seemed to thrive on discomfort or being restful to the point that he lashed out at anyone that tried speaking to him. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Harry straightened his back, squared his shoulders and tried to steel his mind. He'd left his family and everything he'd known to journey to a new, strange city in the hope of a better education. To have those doors shut to him was enough to break his heart.

"Sir, only one person died. Draco's –he's human now. I think I've found a new recipe that makes them docile –"

"Get out, Potter."

"Sir, please, just listen –"

"GET OUT!"

It was the first and only time Harry had seen the man lose his temper –and it scared him. There was an ugly pink flush to that sallow skin and the black hair hanging around his pinched features only accentuated the demonic side to the man before him. Fear spiked through his brain as he backed up against the door. Severus continued glaring at him. Harry fumbled for the door-handle, twisted it, and fell back into the hallway, sweat exploding over his skin.

His shirt clung to him.

He could smell the fear staining his body like invisible ink.

Turning his back on the room, his professor and –no doubt –his future career, Harry left the hospital grounds and returned to Sirius' townhouse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I don't think it's safe to stay in London right now," Sirius stated later that evening over dinner. He'd spent the early evening time cooking with Remus in relative silence. Draco still hadn't come out of his room despite the late hour. Remus had insisted, in his mild-mannered way, that the blonde man was fine he was just keeping to himself out of pride, embarrassment and the fact that he was asleep.

Harry set the table mentally preparing himself for the emotional upheaval of waking the blonde man up from his rest for dinner. Looking up at the two older men, he was suddenly overwhelmed by how young and inexperience he was of the world. "What could we do?" he asked. "Where would we go outside of London?"

"My family has an estate up in Scotland. It's been out of use for a while but it's large enough for all of us if we were inclined to move."

Harry stared at Sirius, his mouth agape. "How rich  _are_  you? You have a townhouse, an old house out of town, and one in Scotland?"

' _Whilst my family lived_ _meagerly_ ,' went unsaid.

Remus lit some candles and oil lamps around the room before getting some wine out for the table. "Don't pull at that thread, Harry," he offered a wan smile. His lips were pockmarked with scabs.

Harry furrowed his brow but decided not to pry further. "I'll go and see if Draco's awake."

"Don't bother," grumbled a voice from the door, "I'm here."

"Oh um … Dinner is just about ready," Harry said.

Draco stared down at him without really seeing him. He nodded his head and then took the seat closest to the door and slumped down into it. He didn't seem to care how he acted around the other three men, any longer, considering they'd all seen him naked and covered in his own filth. The other three worked in silence in preparing the fish supper and boiled spuds. The other three worked in silence in preparing the fish supper and boiled spuds. The smell of the food was enough to make everyone's guts growl with hunger and, thankfully, soon they folded their hands, said a silent prayer and began eating. It wasn't a fancy or refined meal by any means, but food was food and Remus was quite a good chef.

"So, has there been any more thought about our predicament?" Draco asked hoarsely as Remus poured everyone some tea to drink with the cakes he'd gotten from the bakery that morning.

"Sirius was suggesting we might move up to Scotland," Harry replied.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? Where would we live?" he asked drily.

"I have a family estate up there," Sirius stated calmly. "It's been vacant for years. I'm sure there wouldn't be any issue in transferring the deed directly to my name for us to live there."

Draco merely hummed low in his throat.

"Would that … bother you?" Harry asked, pressing the issue a little.

"I suppose not. Money will still serve me well up in Scotland. The house was put into my name so I can simply sell it." He looked up with sharp, clear eyes at Sirius.

"Would I be able to bring my own furniture and belongings?"

Sirius grinned. "Yes, Draco, you could. You could have one wing of the estate if that pleases you."

Draco narrowed his eyes but remained silent, stabbing listlessly as his cake. They lapsed into silence, the weight of the situation descending upon them. Harry glanced up at the clock and sucked in a breath. It was nearly 9PM. The night was getting on and he still hadn't gone back to the townhouse. Standing up from the table he said, "Sorry, I need to head out. I was supposed to get Draco come more of his belongings from his house and I forgot on my way back from the hospital."

Sirius wiped his mouth with his napkin before standing up. "I'll come with you. I don't like the idea of you wondering around this late, considering what's happened."

Harry cast a look at Draco and Remus but didn't comment. It was safe to say that the two causes for the recent trauma's occurring in London were due to one or either of those two men. They had the decency to look ashamed of themselves. Harry cast his godfather a stiff look before his shoulders sagged. He knew there was no way out of it. "Okay. The sooner we go the sooner we can be back."

Remus and Draco didn't move or say anything as Sirius grabbed his cloak and followed Harry out of the house.

 

 

 

 

 

Draco's townhouse was tall, pale and gleaming in the dim light as Harry used the spare key for the front door. The locks drawing back echoed in the silence trapped inside. Sirius was a solid, calculated presence behind him and Harry to admit he felt much more secure with the older man with him. He only needed to go to Draco's bedchamber and pack a couple days' worth of clothes into a bag. That'd get him through his 'healing time' before he was able to go back out on the streets again.

It had been a painful full moon.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end as Sirius lit a lantern on the end table and helped light the way up the stairs. Harry followed close behind, tapping the man's shoulder when they drew near to the blonde's bedchamber. The lock snicked back as he pushed against the door. It creaked through the silence, echoing like a gunshot. Sirius lit a couple of candles on the bureau to give some more light to the room. Harry had his back to the room as he unpacked some of Draco's freshly laundered garments and packed them into a satchel when it happened.

A lantern shattered on the floor, dulling the light.

Sirius yelled out before being muffled.

Harry couldn't see who it was but he could see the vague shapes of two men grappling against one another. They dragged one another onto the floor, landed blow after blow into ribs, muscles and limbs. Both men grunted and Harry panicked, trying to figure out what to do. Hurrying across the room, he grabbed the scruff of the assailants' neck and yanked him back away from Sirius.

"ENOUGH!" he yelled out, as Sirius stood up, cuffing blood from his chin. "Sirius, the candles!"

Hissing and gobbing out mouthfuls of blood onto the wooden floor, Sirius struck a few matches and lit the candles that had been knocked over in the scuffle. He had a few cuts across his cheek and chest from a scalpel. They beaded with blood in the dim light. In the glow of the candles, Severus' face came into view as the hood was yanked back from his cloak. Sirius growled loudly, grabbed the man by the throat and slammed him up against the wall.

"WHY IS IT WHENEVER THERE'S A PROBLEM I COME FACE-TO-FACE WITH YOU?" he barked, squeezing the doctor's neck.

Severus sneered, blood leeching down his barred teeth. "I could say the very same about you," he seethed.

"What is going on?" Harry snapped, his nerves frayed.

Severus swivelled his eyes to look at the young man. "I came here to talk to my Godson. Now where is he?"

"He's with me!" Sirius growled.

Harry looked between the two men. They were on the verge of tearing one another apart. "Draco is safe," he spoke up, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. "He's –He's recovering. He'll be well enough before we leave."

"Leave?" Severus snapped. "Why? Where are you going?"

"Scotland," Sirius grunted. "NOT that it's any of your concern."

"He's my nephew! Everything he does is my concern!"

"He's my nephew! Everything he does is my concern!"

"SIRIUS!" Harry shouted over the ruckus. "Go and wait outside. I need to speak with Snape alone."

"You really think I'm going to leave you alone with this man after what he's just done to me?" the older man sneered, blood running down his chin.

"Yes," Harry said coldly. "Go and tend to your cuts. I need to speak with my professor  _alone_."

Sirius ground his teeth together but wrenched his hands from around Snape's throat. He was rather brutal as he shoved the greasy-haired man aside and stalked out of the room in search of medical supplies, a feat not too difficult in that household. As soon as the door slammed shut, Harry turned his attention to the man he'd left in the hospital. "You have no right to demand anything of Draco after what you did," he said.

"Perhaps not," Severus croaked as he rubbed his throat. "However, being assaulted by your brute of bodyguard is hardly necessary."

"You cut him!"

"Semantics."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "We're moving up to Scotland. It's not safe for Draco here anymore. Not with his current nature."

"You think he won't kill up there?" Severus spat bitterly. "It'd just be easier to hide the bodies on the moors, that's all."

Harry bristled at the accusation but didn't rise to the bait. Not this time. "Why did you come here? What do you want?"

"I had wanted to apologise to Draco for what I had been planning to do."

"An apology was going to fix that?" Harry asked in disbelief. If he hadn't intervened when he did, Draco would probably be buried as opposed to Mary Jane Kelly.

"Of course not," Severus sighed. "However, I would have offered him a second chance at life. Much like you're trying to do."

Harry, despite his anger and resentment towards the man collapsed in the chair before him, felt a ripple of understanding. There was no doubt that Severus had enough of his own money from medical awards and investors across the board of directors at the hospital. Maybe the life he was going to offer Draco was better than the one Sirius was. Pressing his lips together, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against one of the posts of the four-poster bed for support. His own injuries were making him feel weak.

"Draco wants to move to Scotland," Harry insisted, keeping his voice as firm as possible. He felt like a child trying to tell his parents off for some inconsequential.

"He's agreed to it, as long as he can bring his own possessions with him."

Severus scoffed. "That's very much like him."

"We'll most likely be leaving London as soon as we can arrange it," Harry continued.

Severus looked up at him and narrowed his eyes, his breathing shallow. "Very well. I'll let you take my nephew away from everything and everyone he knows –one one condition."

Harry shrank away, fear boiling and frothing inside his skull. "What?" he asked slowly.

"Stay."

Blinking, Harry shook his head trying to let the single work sink in. "I'm –I'm sorry?"

"Stay in London," Severus rasped, clutching at his stomach where Sirius had landed a punch. "Finish your degree. Get your license. Do as you please after that, but don't waste this opportunity."

Harry floundered. "I –but –what about the murders? The women we cut up? Reports of the Ripper? Do you really think that's all just going to disappear?" he asked frantically.

Severus shook his head. "Of course not. However, if you can get Draco out of London now, then it'll be the end of it, won't it? It'll stop with one gang of prostitutes. People will simply brush it off as some Holier Than Thou Christian wanting to purge the city of the diseased evil that lurk in alleyways."

"I –don't know what to say," Harry admitted. His body felt clammy and sweaty as he stared down at the professor. A small cut on his forehead was starting to bleed. He tried to ignore the fact that the Ripper could very well be the only other man in the house with them, but he brushed that chilling thought aside. "Can I –Can I think about it? At least?"

Severus sighed heavily, clenched his fist to redirect the pain but nodded regardless. "Fine. You may  _think on it_." He grunted a little as he hunched over on the chair. "However, you may want to get all of this arranged before the next full moon. Who knows what may happen then."

Harry swallowed thickly.

Within the hour Harry managed to get Severus into a carriage and paid the driver in advance to take his professor back to the hospital. Sirius looked as though he was ready to grab a knife and dissect the man right there in the pavement, but Harry reminded him that they had more pressing matters to attend to. Reluctantly, the curly-haired man allowed his Godson to manhandle him into their own carriage and direct them across to Sirius' townhouse.

As the carriage rocked along the narrow streets, Harry fiddled with the frayed edges of his shirt cuffs. Severus' words –and the entire fight –blurred through his mind, echoing in the silence as the wheels of the coach ground against the flagstones.

Harry definitely had a lot on his mind that night.

Sleep eluded him for the hundredth time that week.


	24. 14th November 1888

**_~0~_ **

**_Wednesday 14th November 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

 

_It always ended the same._

_One minutes he'd be taking a midnight stroll through damp London streets with Draco or Sirius or just by himself. With the crack of lightning everything would change; Draco would be gone and down the other end of the street, standing in a pool of lamplight would be Mary Jane Kelly._

_She'd reach a hand out toward him and beckon him closer, a smile tugging at her lips._

_Then her smile would pull too tight, the skin would split open and peel off the entirety of her lower jaw. The skin would hang and flap in the wet breeze, the stench of rotting flesh wafting off of her._ _An eyelid would split open, her nose would drop from her face, leaving gaping, rotting holes in their place._ _Then, just as Harry would step forward to help, her entire body who collapse into a heap on the cobblestones. By the time he'd reach her, only her mutilated body would remain; face completely unrecognisable, her chest cracked open and her organs running down into the gutter._

_Another crack of lightning would wake him up._

 

 

 

"Another nightmare?" Draco asked just as Harry was swabbing at his face with a damp rag. He closed the door behind him and edge into the room. Harry shuddered and tried not to breathe in the water. Inhaling deeply, he raked a hand through his hair and drew in several deep, soothing breaths. "Want to tell me about it?"

Draco furrowed his brow, taking a moment to think. Then realisation dawned on him and the rosiness ebbed from his cheeks. Sparing the young man a sympathetic glance, Draco reached out and squeezed his forearm. A draught made both men shiver a little. Winter pressed cold and brutal against the glass window panes. They sat in silence as Harry grew a little more conscious, despite the late hour, and drank half his jug of water before he reclined back against the pillows, his muscles still tense.

"Have you given any more thought to what Severus said?" Harry finally asked.

Draco scoffed in derision. "Hardly. Have you?"

"I don't know what I want to do. Things are going to be hard for you in London right now and –"

"Harry, even though it isn't my place to speak on your behalf, is it really wise to give up your place on this program? Even if you place on up in Scotland you will need to start from scratch –and none of this werewolf nonsense either."

"You can't fault it when you are part of it," Harry hummed.

Draco gave a tight smile. "Perhaps," he toyed with the golden trimming over the coverlet. "However, you cannot deny that you've be setting your career back by not staying-on here."

"How can you say that after what the man nearly did to you?" Harry croaked, finding himself frowning heavily and throttled with confusion.

Draco's shoulders sagged. "As much as it pains me to say this –he was only trying to do what he thought was best."

"He was going to pierce your heart!" Harry hissed in a sharp whisper.

"Considering you let me loose and the first thing I did was leave that whore's corpse lying in her bed, I think it's easy to see which scenario would have been easier." Harry scowled. "Don't look at me like that," the blonde groused. "He was trying to help. It's not his fault that those medieval books were –well –medieval."

Harry shook his head. "Regardless, it's basic biology that when you stab a creature in the heart, it dies."

"So dramatic."

"I nearly watched you die, I'm allowed to be dramatic," Harry snapped.

Draco frowned. He'd only been teasing and decided to change tactics. "Harry, whats done is done. Unfortunately, all Severus can do is apologise. I'm not saying I forgive the man, or that I can forget what happened –as vague as that particular memory is for me –but I am still living and he has suffered. There is no other way to move-on from this."

"As you said, it's a vague memory for you," Harry stated, brushing the blonde's hand from his shoulder. "However, you forget that I was there, coherent and conscious. I saw everything and it still haunts me. Almost as much as Miss Kelly's body."

"Well I don't know why you insisted on seeing her corpse in the first place!"

"Morbid curiousity I suppose," Harry sighed, cupping his hands over his face. He shuddered a little and pulled the covers higher up his chest. "I truly don't know, Draco. I can't get the image out of my head of Severus raising that stake and –and –"

"Harry," Draco drew the teen against his chest and rubbed soothing circles into the younger rman's back. The flush of his skin was clammy against Draco's chin as he rested it in the messed-up black hair. "I can't make the decision for you, but look at what happened to that Kelly girl. It was either her or me. You spared my life, at the expense of hers. I cannot repay that debt to you."

"You don't have to –"

"Regardless, I owe you my life." He squeezed Harry's body tighter. "Severus may be eccentric and rash but he isn't an imbecile. He wants to protect me. I think, that night when he came to my old house, I think he had planned to do more than apologise."

"How can you know that?"

"He left the hospital despite a lot of heavy battering and internal bruising just to come and apologise? No, Harry. He came to beg for my forgiveness."

Harry blinked against the cotton of Draco's nightshirt. Beg? Severus was going to beg? He'd kept Draco at arms-length ever since Harry had known either of them. The imagery alone should have been too much for his mind to handle, however after the last couple of months, he could probably keep his composure upon seeing the Lord, God Himself.

"I can't imagine Snape doing such a thing," Harry managed to whisper, his eyelids drooping as Draco's warmth bloomed through him.

"Ah, then that just goes to show that you haven't known him as long as I have," Draco mused softly, threading his fingers through the soft, black hair. "Above all else, Harry, he is human. He can't help the way he is. It's his nature."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few days later they were all setting about their leisurely activities in the front parlour; Remus was mending one of the ripped coverlets from the basement, Draco was reading and Harry was sitting with his back pressed against the leg of the blonde's chair, making more notes in his journal. Even though he hadn't decided whether he was going to stay in London or not, he decided that he needed to complete his research to the best of his abilities. As he inked a detailed drawing of the half-formed shapes of Remus and Draco, he felt long, cool fingers thread into his hair and start caressing his scalp.

Draco had definitely relaxed in his affectionate behaviour around Harry when Sirius and Remus were around. At first he was standoffish, almost hostile, but Remus tried to insist that it was because of a hard full moon for both of them. Harry tried his best to just let the insults bounce off his skin –it was the least he could do considering that Kelly's death weighed on both their minds.

Draco had brought it up one evening as they'd sipped spiced wine in front of the hearth.

In answer to his questioning, Sirius and Remus had stumbled in, intoxicated from the local public house, and were pawing at each other like two dogs in heat. In that moment, any illusions that the two older men were nothing more than companions was instantly shattered.

Harry drew in a sigh and tipped his head back against the cushion. "I cannot believe that within the next week, everyone I know and love it going to disappear to Scotland."

Remus chuckled quietly. "Don't worry too much, Harry. You'll be coming up to see us at Christmas surely. As soon as you get your doctor's license, you can work wherever you please."

"I just feel at a loss again. I'll have to find new lodgings."

"Not necessarily," Draco hummed, his pointed nose still stuck in his book. His hand movements in Harry's hair didn't stop either.

"Oh?" Harry cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"You can just as easily stay in my townhouse. I'm only taking the furniture I actually use. The rest will be left there. It'd cost far too much to drag the entirety of that house up to Scotland."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "No, it would feel too strange living there without you."

"You managed over the last few weeks."

Wrinkling his nose, Harry straightened up. "As far as I was concerned, that was a temporary thing. I was right." He turned to look up at the blonde in the armchair. "It'd be completely different this time."

"A month is hardly something to whine about," Draco chuckled. "Besides, I didn't intend for you to live there by yourself."

"What did you intend?"

"That you should speak with Severus and live with him whilst you finish off your doctorate."

Harry pursed his lips in response. Every muscle tensed and he leaned out of the blonde's touch. His eyes and skin were burning with anger and resentment. In comparison, the tension between himself and Sirius was a lot more manageable. Squaring his shoulders, Harry gently closed the journal in his lap and turned to face his companion. Remus stealthily watched what was going on from under his cowslick. "I will not be staying in the company of that man!" Harry seethed through gritted teeth. "Not after everything that has happened!"

"Harry, we've talked about this," Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Will you at least talk to the man? He's offering to let bygones-be-bygones. I'm not saying you need to speak with him outside of the lectures. The house is plenty big enough for you both to go about your daily business without interacting with each other."

Despite the reality of those words Harry was still thrumming with negative energy. "There's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind."

Draco opened his mouth to argue but, to both of their surprise, Remus held up a hand to quieten the blonde. "I think I may have something that will change your mind, Harry," he said with an easy smile. In that moment, that smile was unnerving. "As you know, Harry, Sirius attended medical school around the same time as Severus did. Unfortunately, due to complications, Sirius was unable to complete his training. It hurt his pride and disjointed his mental faculties for a while." Harry nodded, narrowing his eyes. "It has been a constant burden around his neck and –as you've seen –he's taken to putting his skills to use for my well-being and keeping my nose as clean as possible. Recent months accepted."

Harry looked between the two men. He was running out of arguments.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Trust me, Harry. Take the opportunities that life gives you. They will pave the way to a much better future. Besides, think how proud everyone will be that you're a fully licensed doctor. Who cares who you had to study with? It's a small portion of the rest of your life. You won't always get to like your job, or who you work with, or what you have to do, but at the end of the day those moments are temporary in the grand scheme of things."

Shoulder's sagging, Harry glared childishly at the triumphant look Draco pointed his way. "Okay," he groused as he reluctantly settled down back at the base of the armchair. "I suppose I can at least speak with Snape and see what he has to say."

"Keeping a calm mind goes a long way in this world," Remus stated with a sage nod. "Trust me. I've lived under the same roof as Sirius for almost two decades. I may be the beast, but I have the tamest temper."

Draco let out a low chuckle.

Harry managed a wistful smile.

Turning to the young, bespectacled man at the foot of his chair, Draco asked, "Would you like me to come with you when you go to see Severus? I feel as though the two of you may need a mediator."

"I still don't understand how you can want to be in the same room as him," Harry grumbled.

"He's family," Draco stated. "Unfortunately, that means something to me. Some breathing space between us would definitely improve my outlook on him trying to kill me in cold blood."

"I despite your flippancy at your own morality!" Harry seethed.

"Draco, stop antagonising him. Harry, stop arguing. You're acting like children. If you want to act that way, I'll start sending you to your rooms without supper. Now, behave yourselves otherwise I'll set Sirius on you."

"Oh please!" Draco scoffed. "What could that man possibly do to me that hasn't already been done?"

Remus gave a dark little smile. "You'd be surprised," he intoned, before turning his attention to his mending.

Draco and Harry shared a look before clearing their throats and returning their attention back to their respective activities with renewed vigour. Within the hour Sirius returned home and they started to prepare dinner for the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After looking in Draco's townhouse and then in the private rooms and the office at the hospital, Harry was able to determine that Snape was still at the hospital. The man was refusing to accept half his doctor's diagnoses and medicines they were giving him. It was causing a lot of difficulties in regards to his current residency as a patient. Taking the stairs up until the third floor, they stopped outside Snape's ward door. Harry suddenly felt tense all over, his body warming up despite how cold the hospital hallways were. Draco reached down and squeezed his hand discreetly through the folds of their cloaks.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Draco murmured as he cast a glance down the hallway. There were a few nurses milling in and out of other private rooms but none ventured down their way.

"What choice do I have?" Harry murmured back. "I have a week until you leave to head up North. Whatever my decision, I need to speak with this man. I need to understand why he tried to kill you why I should risk my life living and studying with him if that's the way he behaves."

"Just remember what Remus said," Draco whispered. "Try to keep a calm mind. You'll do no one any good if you provoke the orderlies to come rushing in. The last thing you need is for the papers to report that you're attacking your former professor whilst he lies, defenceless, in a hospital bed."

"He may be in a hospital bed but I highly doubt he's defenceless. Snape doesn't strike me as being that careless two times in a row."

Draco smirked and pushed the door open.

Snape's head lifted up and he scowled at the sight of them. "What do you want?" he asked bitterly.

"We came to talk with you," Draco stated bluntly. Harry felt himself being nudged forward by a hand in the small of his back. He'd been momentarily stunned at the coolness of Draco's tone.

Snape raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Harry? Don't you have something to say to Severus?"

Harry glowered up at the blonde man, but resigned himself to his fate. Clearing his throat, he turned his attention to the dark-haired man propped up in bed. "I came to discuss the possibility of my staying in London to finish my medical degree."

Snape blinked slowly. "Very well. What have you been thinking about it in regards to it?"

"That I don't know if I can study under you, considering what I've witnessed you do."

Snape let a cruel, thin smile press his mouth into a line. "Do you really think being a doctor is going to require a lot of ethical decisions, above-board actions and complete honesty?" He scoffed. "Honestly, Potter, you cannot be that naïve –not after all the things you've learned since you started."

Harry bristled but couldn't deny the statement. "Technically no, I know there are some ethical issues involved. It just didn't really register in my head so much until I saw you about to stab your own nephew in his heart!"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Draco control your child," he grumbled flippantly. "Are you going to continue acting like a brat, Potter, or are you going to tell me what decision you've come to?"

"I haven't made my choice!" Harry snapped. "I was hoping to speak with you and see if my mind could be made up. However, you're being as evasive and cold as you always are!"

"What do you expect?" Severus sneered. "I've been working at this hospital for nearly two decades. Sensitivity and emotional attachments go out of the window within the first year."

"If I may?" Draco cut in. "I proposed the idea that the two of you could reside at the townhouse since I wouldn't be living there any longer. It's a large enough space for you to avoid one another outside of business hours, and also have enough space to work on your personal projects."

"It's an idea," Severus hummed.

"I just don't know how comfortable I'd be with you as my mentor," Harry said. "The only benefit at this point, would be that I'd be able to have more insight for my werewolf formula."

"It's a worthwhile ambition," Snape commented drily.

Harry chewed on his lip before turning to look up at the blonde man. "Draco, could you give us a few moments alone?"

Draco looked between the two men. Eventually, he sighed and bowed his head. "Very well. I'll be just outside. However, as soon as I hear any raised voices we'll reconvene to another time."

"Agreed."

With one last look into Harry's bright eyes, Draco turned on his heel and left the room.

 

 

Focusing his attention on Snape, Harry felt his muscles tense up yet again. He'd somehow relaxed to a degree, however without the comforting presence of Draco to back him up, he was suddenly on his own. "I have some questions that I want to ask you. I want to try and be able to be in the same room with you without being consumed with hatred and anger."

Snape blinked slowly but didn't make any further comment.

"I'm worried that my emotional upheaval will impact the outcome of my work regarding the formula."

"That it will," Snape agreed.

Harry chewed his tongue. "I need to know that –that –you hadn't planned on killing Draco," he finally hissed. His eyes grew misty and he tried to turn his head a little to obscure it.

Snape kept eye contact as he said; "I hadn't planned on killing my nephew. I had only planned on grazing his heart. The silver in the stake should have been enough to cause him to turn back into his human form. As soon as that had happened, I had planned on sewing up any cut artieries."

"It was an unnecessary risk."

"More so than the death of that whore he mutilated?"

Harry fell silent.

"That's what I thought."

"I still don't understand why you haven't turned any of us into the police?" Harry queried, as he flexed his fingers over the cane. The wounds throughout his body were slow-healing.

"That would hardly benefit either of us if I were to do that," Severus stated.

"How so?"

"If I were to land you into prison, I'd be destroying a young man's life in a way so mercilessly evil that even I have misgivings about it," Snape licked his dry lips. "If I were to turn in my nephew and the beast that mauled him that first full moon, then I'd be throwing aside two prized specimens for this sort of supernatural study."

Harry nodded his head and then furrowed his brow. "What about Sirius Black? Would you not hesitate to throw him into prison?"

"Of course not," Snape sneered, his thin lips curling over his barred teeth. "That mutt deserves everything that's coming to him and more."

"So … then why are you letting him relocate everyone up to Scotland?" Harry frowned.

"Whether I like it or not, he appears to be trained in the welfare and management of those in werewolf form. Until you go up there, they will need all the help they can get." There was truth to the professor's words as much as he seemed to say it begrudgingly. "Not to mention, I will insist on sending you up to Scotland for the week of the full moon in order for you try out variations of your formula until we can perfect is, and to help that heathen handle the beasts."

Harry mulled over the information. As much as he wanted to loathe the bedridden man before him, there was a logic to his statements. It was almost too easy to plan, considering the predicaments they were in. "I can't help but feel as though you're only agreeing to any sort of parlay because of the incredible chance that's dropped into your lap in the form of not one, but two werewolves."

"Does it truly matter?" Snape asked. "If I were to turn you all in, you and Sirius would probably serve life sentences and the other mutt and Draco would be put to death."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, Potter," he said slowly with a pointed look. "I do."

Harry nodded at the explanation but couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy in regards to the older man. ' _He cares for Draco,'_  he thought as he shifted his weight onto his other leg. Despite outward appearances and the general rockiness of their relationship, Snape did care for his nephew that much was becoming clearer. Maybe there was hope for him to stay in London after all? Clearing his throat, Harry straightened up. "Very well. I'll let you know my decision within the week."

Snape didn't say anything more on the matter, so Harry inclined his head with a tight lipped smile and left.

 

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"So do you think it went well?" Draco asked as he tweaked a strand of Harry's dark hair.

They were in the middle of having a hot bath in Draco's assigned bedchamber. The house creaked and groaned around them whenever the wind howled down the chimney. The brick walls were high and kept the heat inside. Despite the dust that had needed to be bashed out of the rugs, covers and canopy hangings, it was all very comfortable, even if the furnishings were a little dated. With the fire blazing, warming up their exposed skin, Harry lathered himself over and shimmered lower into the water.

"I think it went as well as it could have gone," he stated simply, "Considering that any yelling would have resulted in him being sedated. I think we both wanted to avoid that."

Draco gaze a lazy smile as he scrubbed at his hands and nails. "Well, do you think it'll make your overall decision any easier?"

Harry felt his smile drop. "I'm not sure. It's hard to say. A lot has happened that's impaired my judgement."

"Oh? How so?"

"I worry about you, Draco. You know that."

The blonde man chuckled as he raked two wet hands through his hair. "Harry, you will have plenty of time to worry about me after you get your license!" He sat up straighter so he could grasp the younger man's flushed cheeks between his own hands. "Do something for yourself, then worry about the rest of the world, okay?"

Harry looked up into the older man's soft, clear eyes and felt his stomach flip. It was a surreal moments to be caught in, bathing in someone's else's house in front of a roaring fire with a man who –quite literally –turned into a ravenous beast. His heart thumped in his chest as he was drawn in, closer and closer, until their lips met in a slow, burning kiss.

Leaning back, eyes still closed, Harry let out a soft sigh and smiled. "I adore the way you kiss me."

Draco smirked, teasing his fingertips around the shell of Harry's earlobe. "Well, don't miss it too much," he teased. "I can't have you hurrying up to Scotland without a medical degree."

"Does it really matter to you whether I have my degree or not?" Harry murmured.

"Not in the way you think," the older man said, pressing his cheek tenderly to Harry's. "I just don't want you to have any regrets."

"Do you regret me?"

Draco sat back, shock evident over his porcelain skin. "Being bitten whilst coming to check on you, aside, no I could never regret you."

Harry wasn't convinced. His eyes lowered to stare down at the bath suds fizzing around his bent knees. He raised them higher and pressed his chin against them. He didn't mean to act childish, however he couldn't deny that he was completely out of his depth. He felt a thousand emotions in the last couple of days and now all he needed to do was open his mouth and speak his mind. With his mouth pressed to his knees he mumbled, "I worry that you'll grow tired of me and go off with some wolf Scotsman whilst I'm studying."

Draco let out a bark of laughter. It sounded awfully uncanny to the way Sirius laughed. "Oh, Harry!" he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, "Oh you stupid little boy! Come here."

Before Harry could protest, Draco had grabbed his arms, managed to spin him around in the narrow tub, and press his face against his pale, hairless chest. He looped his arms securely around Harry's chest and tucked him under his chin.

"Whatever you're thinking you need to stop it," he said in a gentle, affectionate tone. "I don't want to be with anyone else, but you. I need you to trust that you're what I want in this world."

"How can you know what you'll feel a year or two from now?" Harry asked, his heart sinking lower in his chest. There was a niggling feeling of impending fatalities in his mind and he just couldn't shake it.

"I can't know how I feel in a year," Draco admitted, "However I can make a comparison."

"Oh?"

"A year ago –two years even –I was alone."

"No you weren't, you had Severus."

A pause. "As I said, I was  _completely_  alone," Draco reiterated, making Harry chuckle weakly. "I was depressed and filled my days milling around at high society luncheons, fencing, and going to banquets and lavish balls in the evenings. It was tiresome and there is only so much a rich young man can avoid, before getting ambushed by elderly women offering there young nieces or granddaughters for my bride."

"I can't imagine anyone wanting a sexless marriage."

"Precisely," Draco said. "Besides, I would have had to have sex with the girl for an heir and to stop rumours."

"How fun."

"That's high society."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Sounds terrible."

Draco chuckled, nuzzling his chin against the mass of damp raven hair. "Either way, I stopped going to all of those events and after about a year the invitations stopped coming through my door. I can't deny my relief. However, it just left a lot of long, lonely nights to escalate the demons in my mind."

Harry ran his thumb down along Draco's forearm, watching as goosepimples prickled the skin, the fine blonde hairs standing on end. "Did you ever try to …?" he trailed off, not truly wanting the question answered.

"Once. Severus was not pleased. He gave me a hiding with his belt."

"You were grown man in your twenties, how did he manage that?" Harry asked, tilting his head back with a perplexed expression.

"He may not seem like it, but he is a very agile man."

"Well it's a good thing he kept you alive," Harry mused as he scooped handfuls of warm water over his chest. "Otherwise we might never have met."

"What a terrible shame that would have been," Draco smirked teasingly before snatching Harry's mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. The passion built up like gunpowder had been lit in their veins. Draco was on his knees and running his wet hands up and down Harry's back before he finally broke the kiss and growled, "Perhaps we should move this to the bed?"

"Lead the way."

The sex that night was animalistic, passionate, and hungry as they devoured one another.

Harry had to admit that now he knew what to expect, and that he readily wanted everything and anything Draco administered on him, having the older man buried deep inside him, rutting their hips together –it was enough to make every nerve inside him swell with heat and threaten to explode. He clung to the blonde's neck, legs pressed against his chest as Draco's hips thrust faster and faster, building to a climax that they both so desperately craved. Harry tried his best to muffle his moans, but it grew harder as he threw his head back and welcomed Draco completely into his body as the older man came hot and heavy inside him.

They barely rested for twenty minutes before Draco was ready to go again.

That second time, he somehow persuaded Harry to sit on top of him. He'd been hesitant as first, but as soon as he was completely sat in Draco's lap, his mind ran blank. All that mattered in that moment was feeling the older man grow harder and fill him up completely. By the glow of the firelight, Draco watched as Harry gave into his baser instincts and ran himself ragged on his cock. It was the most beautiful seen he'd ever witnessed as Harry came all over his stomach. Draco tried his best to stave his arousal, but all too soon –as Harry rode him raw –he was spilling his seed into his young lover.

Harry fell asleep cradled tenderly in Draco's arm, listening to the beating of his own heart and letting the sweat cool on his skin. He vaguely remembered the ghost of Draco's kiss on his temple and throat before their bodies were covered by a thick, cotton sheet and sleep enveloped him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The following morning dawned bleak and frigid as the four men packed the remainder of their belongings into trunks and hauled them down the stairs to the two coached waiting for them outside. The streets were almost empty, except for those few brave enough or desperate enough for the meagre shillings that they needed to keep alive. Harry winced a little in pain as the coached rocked along the road towards the train station. He couldn't help but notice that Remus had a similar expression. The idea brought a pink blush to his cheeks.

Once at the train station, Sirius got their tickets sorted and helped Remus to stack the trunks onto the train. Harry watched from a small distance away. It was strange to him, to think that someone who had been dubbed ' _The Most Evil Man in Britain'_  not only get away with manslaughter –or murder according to the tabloids –and run off to a new life in Scotland.

The Ripper was fleeing London.

"Train leaves in fifteen minutes!" Sirius called out from the platforms edge. "Try not to miss it!"

Remus gave Harry a warm hug and murmured in his ear, "Come up to visit as soon as you have a chance. Don't waste this."

"I'll try my best," Harry agreed. He watched as the greying man waved a final farewell and climb up into the first class coach to take his seat.

Sirius approached them then, a careful expression on his face. Things had still been a little tense since Harry's visit with Severus at the hospital. Though both men hated one another, there was no denial that Harry's progression in the medical field was a top priority for both. "Draco, would you mind if I have a moment with my godson?" he asked in a clipped tone. Draco inclined his head, spared Harry a reassuring smile, and then moved away so that he was out of earshot. "Harry, I know we've had some difficulties lately and I know this small token won't necessarily help in making things better between us but –OOF!"

He stumbled back as Harry wrapped him in a hug. It had taken many restless nights to get to this point, mentally and emotionally, but he didn't care. After all the nightmares and all the trauma that he'd suffered with, it had all been made bearable by having someone looking out for him. There was no denying that Sirius had been a low-key constant in his life. He hadn't aided Harry in the same way as Draco had, but he had been there and that's what mattered.

"I'll try and do you proud, Sirius. I –I really can't thank you enough."

Sirius blinked owlishly before letting out a nervous laugh and returning the embrace. "You have no idea how much pandering and self-loathing it involved getting you onto the same course as – _that man_."

Harry smiled. "It's appreciated."

"Well, then I hope will make things easier for you over the next few months." He handed Harry a small paper packet. Inside was five hundred pounds. Harry felt his jaw hang open, before Sirius was stuffing the packet into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Don't go flashing it everywhere though. People get desperate in the Winter months." They embraced one another one last time before Sirius bade him a farewell and made his way into the first class cabin with Remus.

Finally, it was Draco's turn.

"I feel as though anything I say can't possibly match up to those words," Draco smiled softly as he came up beside Harry, discreetly brushing his hand against Harry's as he turned to face him. "I almost wish we were getting a night train. Then at least I might have a chance to kiss you one last time."

Harry felt desire stir inside him. "Don't say things you can't deliver on."

Draco smirked. "You'll write to me?"

"Every chance I get," Harry vowed.

"I already can't wait to see you –again."

Harry let the words wash over him. His heart was practically spinning in his chest. Opening his arms, Draco welcomed Harry against his chest and stroked the nape of his neck through his cloak. "Try not to stay outside too long. I don't want you getting ill. You have no excuse now that Remus and I will be in Scotland."

"I love you, Draco," Harry whispered, almost hoping that the man couldn't hear him against the hubbub of the crowd. Yet, at the same time, praying that he would.

There was silence for a moment, before Draco lowered his lips to Harry's ear and breathed, "I love you too. I'll see you soon."

The briefest of kisses was brushed against Harry's cheek before he backed up quickly, raised a hand in a wave, and hurried towards the train just as the final whistle was blowing.

Harry remained on the platform until the train and its plume of grey smoke had vanished into the distance.

 

 

 

 

Taking a carriage towards the hospital to visit Severus, Harry asked to make a detour towards the old townhouse that he'd been staying at with the other three men –his strange little family –for the last few weeks. He barely even needed to slow down on the street as he caught sight of the 'FOR SALE' sign plastered up in the lower window of the front parlour.

That afternoon Snape was officially released from the hospital and, together, they made their way to the townhouse. It was strange to see the empty spaces where Draco's furniture had once been. It felt a hole in Harry's heart that needed to be filled with as much work as possible.

That is how Harry became Snape's lodger.

He remained in the bedchamber he'd occupied originally, whereas Severus moved into the bedchamber that Draco had once occupied. Oddly enough, the large four-poster bed was one of the few things Draco had opted to leave most likely assuming that there were more ornate ones available to buy in Scotland. After a small meal eaten in his room, Harry settled back down with his medical journal in his lap by the fire. He hadn't seen Severus for the remainder of the evening. He older man was probably resting in his room. He was still on a lot of medication. As he read by the firelight, he couldn't help but have his mind wander to how Draco and the others were fairing. Had they reached Scotland yet? Were they settled in?

His stomach twisted in longing.

Rubbing at his temples, he closed his journal and reclined into the armchair. The loneliness crashed down on him like a rough, cold wave. His mind played tricks on him that night, to the point where he was almost certain –in the midst of the witching hour –that he'd heard a wolf howling somewhere in the far distance, crossing time and space just to reach his ears and let him know they were safe.


	25. Epilogue: 28th December 1888

**_~0~  
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**_EPILOGUE:_ **

**_Wednesday 28th December 1888_ **

**_~0~_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

Upon returning from his Christmas weekend visiting his parents in Yorkshire, Harry received a letter in the post with the official results of his medical exam and the thesis he'd finally completed. It had been a long road, filled with a lot of late nights and heated discussions among his classmates –including Blaise who had had a few choice words the next time he'd encountered Slughorn at the hospital –but he could only hope that it had all been worth it. As he broke the wax seal on the back of the envelope and unfolded the thick sheet of parchment within. His heart was like a thick thudding lump in his chest, pressing down on his lungs and making it harder for him to breathe.

This was the moment he'd been toiling over for the last few months.

He opened his eyes and stared down at the neat calligraphy spelling his name. His eyes widened. He'd done it –He'd passed his exams! He had his official license and was invited to a dinner in his and the other graduates' honour to congratulate them, get them mingling with the inner circles of high society as well as getting their pictures taken for the newspaper. He staggered, almost completely floored by the revelation.

"Severus?" he called out into the large house. "Severus! Severus! I got my letter! I passed!"

He found the older man residing in the study, his long nose in a book with a fire crackling merrily in the grate beside him. Looking over the rim of his newly acquired glasses, he smiled. "Congratulations Harry. I knew you'd be able to do it. You put in more effort than half of your classmates."

Harry beamed, a rush of softness and calm smoothing over him like thick treacle. He hadn't realised how on-edge he'd been over the last two weeks since his submission deadline had been met. Yet now, here he was, with his certificate neatly penned and held aloft in his hand. He only wished he could have celebrated with  _everyone_  who had made such an achievement possible for him. It had been a difficult six weeks living under the same roof as Severus –however they had managed to set aside their differences for the most part and had managed to remain quite amicable towards one another.

It had all paid off in the end.

As soon as he'd eaten dinner, he went to his room, sat down at his desk and penned a couple of almost identical letters to his parents and Draco. He had tried to write to everyone as frequently as he could, however as soon as his double lessons ramped up the studying for final exams, he found that there were only so many hours in the day. A lot of the letters he had needed to rewrite as they were doused in ink smudges from being awake into the early hours of the morning. Once the letter to his family were signed and sealed, he took one last glance at the letter he'd written to Draco. He had managed to find a spare hour or two to keep the blonde man updated on the almost daily goings-on of things down in London.

He had all of Draco's letters locked away in the top drawer of his writing desk. He kept the key on a ribbon around his neck. There was no way he could risk Severus finding those letters, even my accident. He couldn't deny that he and Draco weren't as discreet as they could be in their outward approach to their affectionate feelings for one another, however there was a different between keeping it to themselves as opposed to shouting it from the rooftops.

Pressing his lips to the parchment, he inhaled wistfully before slipping it into an envelope and sealing it. Now that he was a qualified doctor, he needed to prepare himself for the dinner in his honour.

 

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

 

A plume of pale grey smoke rose into the air as a train on the opposite platform chugged off on its journey. Harry watched it go for a moment before a hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

"You promise that you'll be back in time for the wedding?" Hermione asked, her smile bright and beaming as the wind caught her brown curls and tried to tug her hat off her head. She clamped it down quickly with one hand and tightened the ribbon under her chin.

"I'm only going away for two weeks," Harry smiled reassuringly as he gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"I know. You do deserve a holiday and some fresh air," she conceded.

"Of course he does!" Ronald agreed enthusiastically. "He's been working himself to the bone just to get to where he is. He now gets to work on the same level as Severus Snape. That's something to be admired."

"Well he's not at the exact same level," Hermione corrected.

"Well perhaps not," Ronald said, "However, he gets to work alongside the man and that speaks volumes to the medical community here."

"I'll take your word for it darling," she smiled before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. Turning her attention to Harry, she took him by both of his shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "Now, are you sure you've packed everything for your journey?"

Harry nodded. "Of course. I may just sleep. I was awake anticipating this all night."

Hermione frowned in dismay but didn't voice any of her concerns. Instead, she embraced Harry tightly and squeezed. "Just make sure you come back soon. Ronald will be absolutely bored if he doesn't have his best friend to join him at all these high society functions."

Harry chuckled and nodded his head in agreement. "I'm going to miss you both so much. I only wish I could have seen you more before the exams."

"Christmas is always busy for all of us," Hermione said sympathetically. "We'll see you soon." She pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. Ronald gave him a firm handshake and after hesitating a moment, gave Harry a firm hug.

"Go on, off with you," he beamed down at Harry. "Get on that train before it leaves without you."

Climbing up onto the train Harry spared his friends one last glance, raised his hand in a wave and then ducked into the carriage just as the final boarding whistle blew out. Settling down into the seats, Harry watched the platform slowly roll away beneath him. He waved at Hermione and Ron and they waved back until he was out of sight. With his leather satchel between his feet, the soft tinkling of glass vials catching his ear every half hour or so, Harry sat back in his seat and watched the city bleed away into the rollig hills of the countryside.

Soon, he'd left London behind entirely.

He dozed on and off for a few hours at a time. By the time he arrived in Scotland the sky had grown completely black outside, with no hint of stars to guide him. Through the bleak, black landscape that rushed by, small flickering beads of orange lamplight started flicking to life. The platform wasn't as busy as the one in London had been. He was surprised to find that Sirius was awaiting his arrival. He was dressed in a fine brocade waistcoat, had his dark tinted glasses on his nose with his tophat and cane. He definitely stood out as one of the richest men on the platform, most likely in the town at that moment.

Once all of his belongings had been unloaded, Harry found that he couldn't contain his excitement. He ran to Sirius for a hug as readily as any toddler seeing their Papa for the first time in months. "I am so excited to be here!" he gushed as Sirius squeezed him so tight he thought his lungs would burst.

"We're all excited to have you up here with us at last!" Sirius grinned as he released his godson and straightened himself up. "We've all been anticipating your arrival. Especially as it's a full moon tomorrow night. We want to have your first evening here being as calm and relaxing as possible."

"Will there be food?" Harry asked as they each took hold of one of the trunks each and steered them towards the exit.

"Of course. Remus and Draco are at the manor cooking right now."

"Oh," Harry frowned. "They needn't go through the trouble."

"Nonsense, Harry, we have been planning this all week. We want to make a fuss, especially as we didn't get to over Christmas. Just –let us enjoy spoiling you? For one night? That's not too much to ask.

The young man had the decency to blush as the footman took his trunks and loaded them onto the carriage. "Very well then. I can't wait to see everyone again." Sirius agreed as they climbed up into the carriage and set off towards the estate.

 

 

 

 

The horses tugged the carriage along the rough, weathered roads. It was definitely a lot bumpier than in London. Harry had to hold on a little tighter for support, but Sirius had no trouble in keeping his balance. There was no way to see anything beyond the lace curtain. Even if they did, Harry doubted he'd be able to see anything anyway. Within the hour, they had pulled up to the large double doors and unloaded the trunks and satchels onto the gravel driveway. Grabbing a handle each, Harry and Sirius tugged the luggage up and into the entrance of the manor.

Inside it was even more extravagant than Harry could have imagined. Even more so than Draco's townhouse –and that had been dripping in extravagance at the best of times. His jaw dropped open as he took in the high, carved wooden ceilings, the pristine tiled floors and the large mirrors in the gilt gold frames. Portraits of people long-dead hung on the walls and the doorways arched along the hallway, each one leading through into different rooms. Sirius watched him with unmasked amusement as he spun in a slow circle, taking everything in.

"This place –this place is magnificent!" he gushed out as he slowly unwound his cloak from his neck.

"I'm glad you think so," Sirius mused. "Now, there's a lot to show you but I fear we've kept Remus and Draco waiting far too long. We can give you the tour later on."

Harry nodded in agreement and followed the older man down the hallway towards the kitchens.

The kitchen itself was made of bright, smooth sandstone and had a large set of ovens, all crackling with fires; strings of garlic, chilli and dried meats and cheese and other varying herbs hung from the ceiling in clusters, giving a dry spicy tinge to the air. Remus was just finishing setting the table when he caught sight of them walking through the archway. "HARRY!" he beamed straightening up from the table and dusting his hands off.

Harry hurried forward and gave the mild-mannered man a tight hug. "It's so good to see you again!" he said, burying his face against the scarred man's shirt.

"Well, well, well if it isn't Harry Potter," drawled a low, silky voice from the far corner. All heads turned to see Draco framed in the narrow archway with a bottle of wine cradled in his arms. Harry felt himself flush upon seeing the blonde man for the first time in almost two months. He both had and hadn't changed; physically, he'd changed a little, he'd put on a little weight so that he didn't look as pinched and gaunt, and his hair had grown out a little, long enough to require it being tied back with a ribbon. It was strange but suited him beautifully. This was the most casual Harry had ever seen him; he was wearing pressed trousers covered in flour smears and his shirt was loose and open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Draco raised a blonde eyebrow, "Don't I get a proper greeting?" he teased.

Coming to his senses, Harry crossed the warm room and enveloped his lover in a tight embrace. He wasn't sure how long to hold for, or if he should even risk kissing the man in front of the other two, however all his doubts were erased when Draco lowered his head and pressed a firm, warm kiss to Harry's cool ones, soaking up the moment and the rush of emotions that encompassed them.

Harry had to choke back a sob. He'd missed the intimacy so much.

Remus cleared his throat with a smirk, "If you'd please release the guest of honour, Draco, dinner is getting cold."

Draco raised his eyebrows with a matching smirk. "So sorry, my liege." He gave a mock bow, before guiding Harry over to the small wooden table. It was large enough for six people, however it just meant there was more elbow room at either end.

Dinner was a lively affair. They drank good wine, toasted any and every anecdote as well as recounting stories that had happened over the last six weeks since they had gone their separate ways. Under the table Draco constantly rubbed his palm over Harry's thigh, teasing him and making him feel ashamed to wish for the end of the evening so they could retire for the night. They laughed and drank and –before becoming too intoxicated –Sirius raised his glance and bade everyone a happy and successful full moon without too many bad incidents and that they all hoped Harry's next formula would bring them closer to such a day where a completely docile werewolf could be achieved. As soon as dessert was served with yet another bottle of wine, their third of the evening, they reminisced about Christmas and what they planned to do once all the celebrating had died down.

By midnight, Harry felt his eyelids were drooping.

"I think it's time this little one gets some proper sleep," Draco chuckled as he rested his almost empty wine glass on the table. Taking one of Harry's arms into his own, he stood up and gave a gentle tug for the young man to follow him. "Come on, Harry, let's get you to bed. You've had a very long, tiring day." Harry was barely about to stumble over saying goodnight to everyone as Draco gently escorted him from the room.

 

 

 

 

 

Arriving as Draco's bedchamber in the west wing of the manor, Harry grunted as the blonde man laid him down as gently as possible on the beautifully carved four-poster bed. It had thick velvet curtains draping down from each corner. Everything was new, ordered within the first week of arriving in Scotland and Draco had paid extra to speed the processing time along. Now, he was grateful that he had when he had Harry stripped down to his undergarments and sprawled before him like a gift from Heaven.

"Oh, Harry!" he breathed as he hastily undressed himself. "You have no idea how desperate I've been for you. I've missed you so horribly!"

Harry stirred so that he was more awake, tilting his head so that he could properly see Draco as he dragged his clothes off his body and climbed up onto the, bed straddling Harry in the process. "I've missed you too Draco," Harry murmured, as he smoothed his hands up and over the planes of the blonde's body, committing every muscle and hair to memory. "Mmmm you're so warm."

Draco lowered himself on his forearms over Harry's head and wasted no time in slipping his tongue between Harry's soft pliable lips. A hand reached up and slid through his hair, tugging on the ribbon and letting his hair fanning down around their faces. "Harry I've missed you," he groaned low in his throat. "Let me show you, Harry, let me show you just how much I've craved you?"

Through the haze in his mind, Harry finally realised that Draco was begging him. He was asking for permission into Harry's body. A smile tickled at his mouth. "Please, Draco, I need you too," he moaned, slipping his hands down the back of Draco's undergarments and gripped his buttocks. The blonde man moaned as he suckled on Harry's throat, his tongue pressing and probing against the flushed skin with his hips rolling hot and heavy against Harry's own. "Make love to me Draco."

The blonde man needed no further invitation.

 

 

That night they did everything; they fucked hard and dirty over the end of the bed and the writing desk until they were both slick with sweat, claw marks and wet, raw bite marks over their necks and chest, they had energetic sex on the bed in as many positions as they could muster and then, finally, Draco stood up, naked and damp with his erection still swollen and urgent, and held out his hand for Harry to take. The younger man was panting heavily as he stared up at the blonde God before him and felt his heart lurch. Taking the pale hand, he was tugged off the edge of the bed and guided over to the thick, fur rug that was sprawled out on the hearth. There, he was laid down, the fur tickling his inner thighs, as Draco positioned himself between his legs, entered his body and made slow, aching, burning love by the heat of the fire. It gave Harry a chance to breathe properly again. It almost didn't matter at that point whether they finished or not –however Draco took his time and lovingly cared for Harry until they were both spent and collapsed into the plush rug.

Harry must have dozed for a while because when he came to, there was a blanket draped over him to ward off the chill. Draco was dressed in a robe and lounging on his side, his blonde hair still hanging down his back as he watched Harry stir awake. Harry gave a lazy smile before propping himself up. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to nod off."

"It's okay. It gave me some time to think and –I think I'm ready."

"To … what?"

"I have a question I wanted to ask you," Draco admitted. "I wasn't sure if I should but … I have to."

"You can ask me anything," Harry stated as he forced himself to sit upright.

Facing one another, Draco gave a somewhat nervous smile before producing a blue velvet box from the pocket of his robes. "I wanted to give you this."

Harry stared down at the box, his mind running blank. There was only one thing a box of that calibre could mean. His heart felt heavy in his chest as he took in with trembling hands. What would he say to Draco? He couldn't reject him at such a moment like this. It wasn't as though he wouldn't want to, if it were at all possible, but they'd both be hung if word got out. Whilst his mind raced and panicked, Draco was probably able to see that he was nervous at least. He pried the lid open for Harry.

It wasn't a ring.

That was the first thought that went through Harry's head. For some reason disappointment and relief washed through him in equal measure. He couldn't deny his confusion at what was in the box, however. Frowning up at Draco, he gingerly touched the silver metal bullet nestled within. "What is this?" he asked, gently pulling the bullet free. It was attached to a silver chain with a heavy clasp. He laid it out in his palm and studied it. "Draco, I really don't understand."

Draco nodded in understanding. Adjusting his robe, he took both of Harry's hands in his own and cupped them around the bullet. "Harry, I need you to know that –I have never been so lucky to have met someone as remarkable as you."

Harry swallowed, feeling his cheeks flush.

"You're kind, caring and intelligent. More so than I'd originally thought. You're inspiring and wonderful and are truly beautiful." He smiled as he watched Harry blush even more. "I say all of this, not to flatter you –although that is a benefit –but also to draw attention to the fact that there are not many people like you in this world. It breaks my heart to think that flames as bright as yours get snuffed out by unnatural or unnecessary means. No one, least of all you, deserves to be ripped from this earth ahead of their time, least of all by –by someone like me."

His hands were trembling now. It took all of his strength not to cry as he cleared his throat. Harry moved his hands and, suddenly, he was cupping Draco's quaking hands between his own. "Draco," he finally found his voice. "I –I can't accept this."

Draco reanimated, pressing the bullet firmly back between Harry's palms. "No, Harry, you must!" he choked out. "You need to promise me that –should the need ever arise –that you will think of yourself first. I –I need to know that you are forever protected!"

Harry felt his eyes brim with tears as he felt the hot metal roll between his palms. He swallowed thickly and tried to remember how to breathe. He let his mind process the words that Draco had just spoken. They hung in the air between them burning as fiercely as the flames behind them. Without asking permission, Draco slipped the bullet from between Harry's palms and undid the clasp. "May I?" he murmured, grey eyes pleading as he opened the necklace wider.

Harry hesitated for a moment, not wanting to promise anything as macabre as ending his lover's life in cold blood. That had been exactly what he'd tried to stop from happening nearly two months ago. Then again, there was no saying that he would ever need to use the bullet, not if he did his research right and continued to find new and better ways to improve the formula. The current batch rested in the kitchen, waiting to be used the following evening. If he was lucky, that would be the last time he'd need to make any alterations. It was wishful thinking he knew that. He was also hopeful.

Drawing in a deep breath, steeling himself, he nodded. Turning on the rug with his back to Draco, he shuddered as the bullet was draped over his chest, the heavy clasp fastened and resting on the nape of his neck. He didn't have a moment to think before two strong, pale arms wove around his chest and hugged him fiercely. "This is how much I love you," Draco murmured in his ear. The words made his heart skip. "I love you enough, that I would give up my own life, if it means that you can live yours to the fullest."

"I want  _you_  in my life," Harry insisted in a hushed whisper.

"You probably will," Draco said. "Look at Sirius and Remus. Two decades, Harry. I hope to God you will never have to use that bullet, but promise me? Promise me that -if it's your only option –you'll use it?"

Harry fingered the cooling metal and pressed back against Draco's chest. "Yes, Draco. I promise."

A finger hooked under his chin and turned his face around so that they could share a deep, tender kiss. They remained that way for a while, wrapped in blankets and each others arms. The fire dimmed a little, the wind howling in the outside world. Harry nestled his head under Draco's chin and couldn't help but worry about the following night. Another full moon, another medicinal potion to test out on his lover –and now a bullet ready and waiting to kill him dead. It was too much to take in, but at the same time it was a thrilling new step towards their future. Two decades? He'd need to cherish every moment as it came; the good, the bad and the ugly.

Somewhere in the manor, a clock or two chimed 3AM.

He continued to roll the cool, smooth bullet between his fingers as he laid down with Draco on the rug and turned so that his face was pressed to the older man's scarred chest. He traced a few of them sleepily, pressing a tender kiss to his skin as his brain slowly wound down for the night.

Soon, there would be a full moon.

Now, at least, he was prepared.

 

 

 

 

 

**_~ THE END ~_ **


End file.
